THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


-..** 


AUBERT  DUBAYET 


OR 


THE  TWO   SISTER   REPUBLICS 


BY 


CHARLES    GAYARRE 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  HISTORY  OF  LOUISIANA,"  "PHILIP  n.  OF  SPAIN," 

"  THE     SCHOOL     FOR     POLITICS,"    "  INFLUENCE    OF     THE 

MECHANICAL   ARTS,"    "FERNANDO    DE   LEMOS,' 

ETC.,    ETC. 


"  It  will  be  a  curious  spectacle  to  watch  the  progress  of  those  twin  sisters,  the 
American  and  French  Republics." — AUBERT  DUBAYET 


BOSTON 

JAMES   R.   OSGOOD   AND   COMPANY 
1882 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  In  tbe  year  1882,  by 

CHARLES  GAYARRE, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.  0. 


PS 


PREFATORY    REMARK. 


IN  this  work  the  substance  is  history;  the  form 
only  is  romance.  It  can  not,  therefore,  be  properly 
called  a  novel.  It  is  history,  but  with  its  nudities 
embellished  under  the  glittering  gossamer  veil  of  fic 
tion.  History  is  marble,  and  remains  forever  cold, 
even  under  the  most  artistic  hand,  unless  life  is 
breathed  into  it  by  the  imagination — that  creative 
power  granted  by  God  to  man.  Then  the  marble 
becomes  flesh  and  blood — then  it  feels,  it  thinks, 
it  moves,  and  is  immortal.  This  is  what  I  have 

attempted. 

THE  AUTHOR. 


1118295 


INTRODUCTION. 


IN  the  composition  which  I  venture  to  present  to 
the  public  under  the  title  of  "  Aubert  Dubayet ;  or, 
the  Two  Sister  Republics,"  as  a  sequel  to  "  Fernando 
de  Lemos,"  there  are  three  historical  characters  not 
so  well  and  so  extensively  known  as  many  of  the 
others  who  figure  in  its  pages.  For  this  reason,  I  deem 
it  expedient  to  give  the  short  biographical  sketches 
which  follow : 

AUBERT   DUBAYET 

was  born  in  New  Orleans,  on  the  I7th  of  August, 
1759.  His  father  was  adjutant-major  in  the  small 
body  of  troops  which  France  kept,  at  that  epoch,  in 
her  colony  of  Louisiana,  soon  destined  to  be  transferred 
to  Spain.  The  subject  of  this  notice  entered  in  early  life 
the  French  army,  and  under  Rochambeau  served  in 
America  during  the  war  of  independence  between  Great 
Britain  and  the  United  States.  He  was  in  France  at  the 
commencement  of  her  revolution  in  1789,  and  hasten 
ed  to  take  an  active  part  in  public  affairs.  At  that 
time  he  published  a  pamphlet  against  admitting  the 
Jews  to  the  rights  of  citizenship.  But  he  afterward 
became  one  of  the  principal  advocates  for  Liberal 
innovations,  without  running  into  excesses,  and  in 
1791  was  elected  to  the  Legislative  Assembly,  in 
which  he  acted  a  conspicuous  part,  and  whose  presi 
dent  he  was  for  two  weeks.  In  1793,  he  resumed  his 

(5) 


6  INTRODUCTION. 

military  career,  and  was  made  Governor  of  Mayence 
(Mentz),  on  the  Rhine,  which,  after  an  obstinate  de 
fense,  he  was  compelled  to  surrender  to  the  King  of 
Prussia.  Aubert  Dubayet  speedily  rose  to  the  grade 
of  lieutenant-general,  commanded  as  general-in-chief 
in  La  Vendee,  and,  being  defeated  at  Clisson  by  the 
Royalists,  or  the  Chouans,  as  they  were  called  by  the 
republicans,  became  the  object  of  denunciations, 
against  which  he  successfully  defended  himself.  Em 
ployed  again  at  Cherbourg,  where  he  displayed 
great  intelligence  and  activity,  he  was  called  by  the 
Directory  to  the  post  of  Minister  of  War,  which  he 
held  only  three  months,  being  appointed  Minister 
Plenipotentiary  of  the  Republic  at  Constantinople, 
where  he  closed  his  active  and  romantic  career  on  the 
1 7th  of  December,  1797,  when  he  was  hardly  more 
than  thirty-eight  years  old. 


ETIENNE  BERNARD  ALEXANDRE  VIEL 

was  born  in  Louisiana,  on  the  3ist  of  October,  1736, 
and  died  on  the  i6th  of  December,  1821,  at  the  Col 
lege  of  Juilly,  in  France,  where  he  had  been  educated, 
and  where,  in  his  turn,  after  having  become  a  Jesuit, 
he  had  devoted  himself  to  the  education  of  youth. 
He  resided  several  years  in  that  part  of  Louisiana 
called  Attakapas,  and  formerly  occupied  by  Indians 
who  were  men-eaters.  He  made  himself  much  be 
loved  by  those  to  whose  spiritual  welfare  he  had  at 
tended.  He  is  known  in  the  erudite  world  by  a  very 
beautiful  translation  in  Latin  verse  of  Fenelon's 
Telemachus ;  also  by  some  small  poems  in  Latin 
which  he  presented  to  the  public  in  1816,  under  the 


INTRODUCTION.  j 

title  of  "  Miscellanea  Latino  Gallica,"  and  by  an  ex 
cellent  French  translation  of  the  "Ars  Poetica,"  and 
of  two  of  Horace's  Odes. 


JOSEPH   LAKANAL 

was  a  priest  and  a  professor  of  belles-lettres  before  the 
revolution  of  1789.  He  broke,  in  1791,  the  vows 
which  bound  him  to  the  Catholic,  Apostolic,  and 
Roman  Church.  In  1792,  he  became  a  member  of 
the  National  Convention,  in  which,  when  the  ques 
tion  was  presented,  he  voted  for  the  death  of  Louis 
XVI.,  without  appeal  and  without  reprieve.  In  March, 
1793,  he  was  commissioned  by  the  National  Conven 
tion  to  demolish  the  Chateau  de  Chantilly,  the  famous 
seat  of  the  Condes,  princes  of  the  blood,  and  to  con 
vert  to  the  use  of  the  Republic  all  the  gold,  silver, 
copper,  lead,  and  iron  which  he  could  extract  from 
that  magnificent  edifice.  He  also  took  possession  of 
all  the  papers  of  that  royal  and  heroic  race.  As  a 
member  of  the  Committee  on  Public  Education  he 
showed  great  zeal  and  intelligence,  and,  in  conse 
quence  of  it,  was  chosen,  at  a  later  period,  to  be  a 
member  of  the  French  Institute.  On  the  istof  June, 
1793,  he  caused  the  National  Convention  to  issue  a 
decree  taking  away  from  the  cities,  towns,  and  villages 
of  France  all  such  names  as  reminded  the  people  of 
royalty,  and  giving  them  other  appellations  which  he 
indicated.  On  the  I7th  of  April,  1794,  he  proposed 
to  erect  a  monument  to  those  citizens  who  had  per 
ished  in  attacking  the  Tuileries  on  the  loth  of 
August,  1792,  and  in  helping  to  slaughter  the  one 
hundred  Swiss  Guards  on  duty  in  the  palace.  He 


8  INTRODUCTION. 

was  the  author  of  the  decree  establishing  primary  and 
central  schools  all  over  France.  On  the  i/th  of  Oc 
tober,  1795,  he  spoke  with  great  vehemence  against 
such  of  the  people  of  Paris  as  had,  two  days  before, 
risen  against  the  Assembly;  he  advocated  a  severe 
repression  of  such  attempts,  and  proposed  the  expul 
sion  from  that  city  of  all  those  who  were  not  residents 
in  it  before  1789.  He  also  advised  the  formation  of 
a  guard  to  protect  the  Legislative  Body.  He  entered 
the  "  Council  of  Five  Hundred  "  on  the  3Oth  of  Octo 
ber,  1795,  and  ceased  to  be  a  member  on  the  2Oth  of 
May,  1797.  He  was  one  of  the  executive  commissa 
ries  of  the  Government,  when,  having  opposed  the 
coup  d'etat  of  the  1 8th  Brumaire,  he  was  removed  by 
Bonaparte  soon  after  the  latter  became  First  Consul. 
He  was,  however,  appointed  censor  or  proctor  in  the 
Bonaparte  Lyceum,  and  filled  its  functions  until  1809. 
At  the  restoration  of  the  Bourbons,  the  regicide  fled 
from  France  and  came  to  the  United  States.  He 
established  himself  in  Kentucky,  on  the  banks  of  the 
Ohio,  as  generally  reported,  from  which  he  was  called 
to  Louisiana,  to  be  put  at  the  head  of  the  College  of 
Orleans,  which  had  long  flourished  under  a  wise 
and  esteemed  ad.ministration.  The  appointment  of 
Lakanal  was  offensive  to  a  large  portion  of  the  popu 
lation,  and  that  institution  soon  ceased  to  exist. 
After  the  revolution  of  1830,  he  returned  to  France, 
where  he  died,  leaving  descendants  in  New  Orleans. 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE  ABBE  VlEL  AND  AUBERT  DUBAYET — A  TERRIBLE 
SECRET 13 

CHAPTER   II. 

THE  CONCERT  TO  ROYALTY — THE  PRINCESS  DE  LAM- 
BALLE — IS  THERE  ANYTHING  IN  OMENS,  PRESAGES, 
AND  PRESENTIMENTS? 27 

CHAPTER   III. 

CONDITION  OF  THE  THIRTEEN  NORTH  AMERICAN  COLO 
NIES  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN  IN  1780 — LIEUTENANT  AU 
BERT  DUBAYET  IN  NEWPORT,  RHODE  ISLAND,  WITH 
ROCHAMBEAU  AND  THE  FRENCH  ARMY  .  .  .42 

CHAPTER   IV. 

GLOOMY  VIEWS  AND  FEELINGS  OF  WASHINGTON — His 
APPEAL  TO  FRANCE 54 

CHAPTER  V. 

TIMELY  AID  OF  FRANCE— SIEGE  AND  SURRENDER  OF 
YORKTOWN — DUBAYET  is  MADE  CAPTAIN  .  .64 

CHAPTER  VI. 

DISCONTENT  OF  THE  AMERICAN  ARMY— A  CROWN  is 

OFFERED  TO  WASHINGTON 72 

(9) 


10 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  VII. 


DISBANDING  OF  THE  REVOLUTIONARY  ARMY— SUBLIM 
ITY  OF  THE  MORAL  CHARACTER  OF  WASHINGTON  .  84 

CHAPTER  VIII. 

WASHINGTON  AT  MOUNT  VERNON — AUBERT  DUBAYET 
BECOMES  HIS  GUEST 95 

CHAPTER  IX. 

INSURRECTION  IN  MASSACHUSETTS — ADOPTION  OF  A 
NEW  FORM  OF  GOVERNMENT  FOR  THE  UNITED 
STATES — VIEWS  AND  APPREHENSIONS  OF  STATES 
MEN — DUBAYET  RETURNS  TO  FRANCE  .  .  .  109 

CHAPTER  X. 

THE  COUNT  DE  MIRABEAU  BECOMES  A  CLOTH  MER 
CHANT—HIS  FIRST  POLITICAL  SPEECH  AT  Aix,  AS 
A  CANDIDATE  BEFORE  THE  PEOPLE  .  .  .  .125 

CHAPTER  XI. 

REPUBLICANISM  AND  ROYALISM— THE  RED  CAP  AND 
THE  BASTILE 145 

CHAPTER  XII. 

SCENES  IN  THE  NATIONAL  ASSEMBLY  OF  FRANCE — MI 
RABEAU  TAKES  THE  LEAD — HlS  INTERVIEW  WITH 

MORRIS,  THE  MINISTER  PLENIPOTENTIARY  OF  THE 
UNITED  STATES 152 

CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  SUPPER  OF  THE  ACTRESS— A  SCENE  BETWEEN  MI 
RABEAU  AND  THE  DUKE  OF  ORLEANS  .  .  .165 


CONTENTS.  1 1 

CHAPTER  XIV. 

THE  TRIUMPH  OF  ELOQUENCE — A  GLANCE  AT  THE  FUT 
URE  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES  BY  MIRABEAU  .  .  178 

CHAPTER  XV. 

MIRABEAU  IN  HIS  DRESSING-ROOM — 1  SA  TOILETTE — 
A  VALET  WHOSE  HAPPINESS  CONSISTS  IN  BEING 
BEATEN  BY  HIS  MASTER  .  ....  193 

CHAPTER  XVI. 
A  DINNER  PARTY — TALLEYRAND  AND  HIS  GUESTS       .  209 

CHAPTER  XVII. 
TALLEYRAND'S  EVENING  RECEPTION       ....  240 

CHAPTER  XVIII. 

AN  INTELLECTUAL  PASSAGE-AT-ARMS  BETWEEN  THE 
ABBE  MAURY  AND  ROBESPIERRE  ....  248 

CHAPTER  XIX. 

CONTRAST  BETWEEN  THE  ENGLISH  AND  FRENCH  NA 
TIONAL  CHARACTER — MIRABEAU  REVIEWS  CRITI 
CALLY  SOME  OF  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES  .  .  .  263 

CHAPTER  XX. 

A  PORTRAIT  OF  MIRABEAU  BY  HIMSELF — HE  AN 
NOUNCES  IN  THE  NATIONAL  ASSEMBLY  THE  DEATH 
OF  FRANKLIN 274 

CHAPTER   XXI. 

A  MIDNIGHT  INTERVIEW  IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  VER 
SAILLES  BETWEEN  MIRABEAU  AND  THE  QUEEN, 
MARIE  ANTOINETTE— DEATH  OF  MIRABEAU  .  286 


I2  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER   XXII. 

THE  JACOBIN  CLUB— MAKAT  AND  CATHELINEAU— THE 
SANS-CULOTTE  AND  THE  VENDEAN— JEFFERSON'S 
LETTER  HELPING  MARAT 3°3 

CHAPTER  XXIII. 
CHARLOTTE  CORDAY— ASSASSINATION  OF  MARAT  .       .318 

CHAPTER  XXIV. 
THE  LAST  BANQUET  OF  THE  GIRONDISTS       .       .       .344 

CHAPTER  XXV. 

DEMOLITION  BY  A  DECREE  OF  THE  NATIONAL  ASSEM 
BLY  OF  THE  CHATEAU  DE  CHANTILLY— THE  HOME 
OF  THE  GREAT  CONDE— THE  VISION  IN  THE  LAKE  .  354 

CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THERESA  CABARRUS  AND  TALLIEN — FALL  OF  ROBES 
PIERRE  . 385 

CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE  LEADERS  OF  MEN  AND  THEIR  WEARINESS  OF 
SPIRIT 4ic 

CHAPTER  XXVIII. 

A  QUARREL  AND  ALMOST  A  WAR  BETWEEN  THE  Two 
SISTER  REPUBLICS— DEATH  OF  AUBERT  DUBAYET 
AT  CONSTANTINOPLE 421 


AUBEBT  DUB  A  YET; 

OR, 

THE    TWO    SISTER    REPUBLICS. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    ABB£    VIEL    AND      AUBERT  DUBAYET — A    TER 
RIBLE   SECRET. 

IN  the  month  of  November,  in  the  year  1779,  on 
one  of  those  exquisite  autumnal  days  so  peculiar  to 
Louisiana,  when  merely  to  inhale  the  balmy  atmos 
phere  is  a  feast  of  the  senses,  two  men  were  standing 
on  the  left  bank  of  the  Mississippi,  in  front  of  Tou 
louse  street.  The  sun,  verging  toward  the  western 
horizon,  was  gilding  with  its  last  rays  the  roofs  of 
New  Orleans  and  the  tops  of  the  tall  moss-covered 
trees,  which  looked  like  gray-bearded  giants,  on  the 
opposite  side  of  the  river,  in  the  rear  of  several  plan 
tations  then  existing  where  the  town  of  Algiers  has 
since  grown  up.  A  vessel  was  in  sight,  just  turning 
round  a  projecting  curve,  and  was  fast  coming  up 
with  all  her  sails  swelling  under  the  breath  of  a  strong 
breeze,  which  impelled  her  onward  like  a  thing  of 
life.  One  of  those  men  was  a  youth,  about  twenty- 
one  years  old  ;  the  other  had  reached  fully  double  the 
age  of  his  companion.  The  former,  elegantly  dressed 
after  the  fashion  of  the  time,  was  Jean  Baptiste  An- 
nibal  Aubert  Dubayet,  a  native  of  Louisiana,  and  a 

(13) 


I4  A  USER T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

son  of  Adjutant-Major  Dubayet,  who  had  long  served 
in  the  small  body  of  troops  which  France  had  main- 
tained  in  her  colony  of  Louisiana  before  its  cession 
to  Spain,  and  who  had  lately  died,  leaving  a  widow 
and  an  only  son — the  one  now  before  us.  The  young 
man  had  just  returned  from  Europe,  where  he  had 
received  a  complete  classical  education  in  a  college  of 
Jesuits.  His  companion  wore  the  costume  of  an  ec 
clesiastic,  and  belonged  to  the  celebrated  religious 
order  founded  by  Loyola.  He  also  was  born  in  Lou 
isiana.  But  he  had  in  early  life  gone  to  France,  and 
had  subsequently  become  a  teacher  in  the  institution 
where  Aubert  Dubayet  had  recently  graduated  with 
distinguished  honors.  Conceiving  for  his  pupil  a 
strong  attachment,  he  had  returned  with  him  to  New 
Orleans.  He  was  called  Labbe  Viel.  The  abbt  was 
an  unsurpassed  Latin  and  Greek  scholar,  and  was  so 
wedded  to  ancient  literature  that  he  admired  noth 
ing  of  the  modern,  except  the  poem  of  Telemachus, 
by  Fen61on.  Perhaps  it  was  because  the  work  of  the 
archbishop  of  Cambrai  had  been  evidently  inspired 
by  Homer  and  Virgil,  and  the  subject  had  been  taken 
from  the  quarry  of  antiquity  with  all  the  approved 
and  traditional  machinery  of  gods  and  goddesses. 
The  only  fault  he  found  with  that  production  was  its 
being  written  in  French  and  in  prose.  "  Otherwise," 
he  said,  "  it  would  have  been  a  grand  epic  poem, 
ranking  next  to  the  Iliad,  the  Odyssey,  and  the  Eneid.** 
Wherefore  he  had  translated  it  into  Latin  verse,  really 
worthy  of  the  Augustan  age.  This  learned  Jesuit, 
although  a  truly  pious  man,  was,  it  must  be  confessed, 
more  familiar  with  the  classics  than  with  the  Bible 
and  the  writings  of  the  fathers  of  the  Church.  He 
had  in  particular  a  sort  of  devotional  attachment  to 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  !j 

Horace,  who  was  his  oracle  and  whom  he  quoted  on 
every  occasion.  Hence,  deploring  that  the  great  ma 
jority  of  his  countrymen  could  not  profit  by  the 
philosophical  and  literary  principles  of  him  whom 
he  called  "The  sage  of  the  Sabine  farm,"  he  had  ven 
tured  to  translate  into  French  some  of  the  epistles 
of  that  poet  and  his  Ars  Poetica.  His  Latin  transla 
tion  of  Telemachus,  published  in  a  costly  edition  by 
the  voluntary  and  spontaneous  subscription  of  some 
of  his  pupils  and  admirers,  had  gained  him  consider 
able  reputation,  increased  by  his  French  translations 
of  Horace,  although  he  frequently  regretted  the  im 
propriety  of  having  travestied  that  author  in  a  lan 
guage  so  very  inferior  to  the  original,  "  and  yet  it  is 
better,"  he  would  say,  "thus  to  present  to  the  igno 
rance  of  the  modern  world  this  great  luminary  of  the 
ancient — pale,  distorted,  and  obscured  as  its  light  may 
be  by  passing  through  the  medium  of  an  opaque  and 
coarse  glass,  than  not  present  it  at  all."  The  abbe  con 
sidered  as  a  profound  ignoramus  any  one  who  did  not 
have  at  his  fingers'  end  the  Latin  language ;  and,  as 
to  the  Greek,  he  deeply  commiserated  the  unfortu 
nate  man  who  was  not  acquainted  with  its  beauties. 
He  always  carried  about  him,  safely  stowed  at  the 
bottom  of  his  literary  carpet-bag,  and  with  as  much 
care  as  his  breviary,  some  compositions  of  his  own, 
in  Latin,  of  course,  which  he  had  decorated  with  the 
title  of  Miscellanea  Latino  Gallica — "  Latino-Gallic 
Miscellanies."  These  he  would  occasionally  read  by 
scraps  to  his  most  intimate  friends  and  favorite  pupils. 
It  was  only  when  in  his  eightieth  year,  that  he  could 
be  prevailed  upon  to  overcome  his  modesty  and  to 
lay  before  the  public  any  original  production  of  his 
own  mind.  To  the  entreaties  of  his  admirers  during 


X6  A  USER  T  D UBA  YE  T. 

half  a  century  he  had  constantly  replied  that  there 
are  few  things  worth  publishing  after  the  master 
pieces  of  antiquity.  "  I,  for  one,"  he  declared,  "will 
not  be  guilty  of  such  presumption."  But,  in  extreme 
old  age,  a  short  time  before  he  died  in  France  at  the 
college  of  Juilly,  where  he  had  been  educated  and 
where  he  ended  his  life,  engaged  to  the  last  in  dis 
charging  the  duties  of  a  professor,  he  changed  his 
mind — the  paternal  fondness  of  the  author  for  his 
literary  progeny  having  probably  so  increased  with 
years  as  to  become  irresistible. 

Such  was  the  individual  who,  on  the  day  and  at  the 
hour  I  have  mentioned,  stood  with  Aubert  Dubayet 
on  the  bank  of  the  Mississippi,  and  watched  with 
keen  interest  the  rapid  approach  of  the  vessel  which 
I  have  described,  and  which  sported  conspicuously 
the  white  flag  of  France.  It  was  a  large  merchant 
ship  from  Bordeaux.  Pointing  to  her  with  his  index, 
"  News,  news  from  France,  from  our  beloved  France ! " 
exclaimed  the  abbe,  joyfully.  "This  navh  jac  tantibns 
austris,  this  tempest-beaten  ship,  will  rejoice  our 
hearts.  Let  us  go  on  board."  By  this  time  the  ship 
had  dropped  her  anchor  near  the  bank  of  the  river, 
but  not  so  near  as  to  permit  communication  with  her 
without  the  assistance  of  a  boat.  Labbe  Viel  and 
Aubert  Dubayet,  throwing  themselves  into  one,  were 
soon  on  deck,  and  exchanging  warm  greetings  with 
the  captain,  whom  they  knew  well  and  with  whom 
they  had  once  crossed  the  Atlantic. 

"  Ha,  ha !  "  exclaimed  the  learned  Jesuit,  patting 
the  broad  chest  of  the  rugged  captain,  "  illi  robitr,  & 
<es  triplex  circa  pcctus  erat,  qui  fragilem  truci  com- 
misit  pdago  rat  em  primus." 

"Still   spouting  your   confounded  lingo,  which    I 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  ij 

don't  understand,"  said  the  captain,  smiling  good- 
humoredly.  "  I  take  it  for  granted  that  you  are  ask 
ing  me  in  Latin  for  a  bottle  of  claret.  Let  us  go 
down  for  it.  Besides,  I  have  for  you  in  my  cabin  a 
package  of  letters.  Follow  me  ;  I  lead  the  way." 

"  Agreed,"  said  the  incorrigible  abbe,  "  recepto  dulce 
mihi  furere  est  amico,  which  means,  captain,  that  I 
hope  to  drink  your  health  many  a  time  before  you 
are  drowned  in  that  villainous  element  on  which  you 
live." 

When  they  were  below  deck,  "  Pray,  be  seated  on 
this  sofa,  gentlemen,"  said  the  captain.  "  Steward, 
bring  glasses  and  our  oldest  claret."  The  order  was 
soon  obeyed,  and  pledges  of  good  wishes  exchanged 
over  the  ruby-looking  liquid.  "  Now,"  continued  the 
captain,  drawing  a  package  from  his  desk  and  handing 
it  over  to  the  abbe,  "  here  are  letters  for  you  both.  I 
must  on  deck  to  give  orders,  whilst  you  commune 
with  your  distant  friends.  Break  the  seals  open  with 
out  ceremony.  Make  yourselves  at  home  and  com 
fortable.  The  claret  will  remain  before  you  and  at 
hand,"  and,  bowing  to  his  guests,  he  ran  up  the  steep 
steps  by  which  they  had  come  down,  and  his  voice  of 
command  was  heard  above,  giving  orders  to  his  crew. 

The  two  men  were  soon  immersed  in  the  reading 
of  their  letters.  "  O,  how  happy  I  feel,  father!  "  ex- 
chimed  Aubert  Dubayet,  addressing  the  ecclesiastic. 
"  Here  is  a  letter  from  Augustin  Calandrano,  and  one 
from  Joseph  Lakanal,  my  chums  at  college  and  your 
favorite  pupils.  Both  are  provided  for.  Augustin  Ca 
landrano,  or  rather  Tintin  Calandro,  as  we  used  to  call 
him  by  abbreviation,  is  chief  musician  of  the  princess 
de  Lamballe's  chapel,  with  a  good  salary  and  an  occu 
pation  suited  to  his  taste  and  peculiar  nature,  and 


!g  A  UBERT  DUBA  YET. 

Joseph  Lakanal,  who  has  entered  the  holy  orders,  to 
which  he  was  inclined  at  school,  has  obtained,  through 
the  influence  of  the  princess,  at  the  solicitation  of  Tin- 
tin,  the  situation  of  professor  of  belles-lettres  in  the 
academy  of  the  city  of  Toulouse. 

"I  rejoice  at  it  with  all  my  heart,"  replied  L abb$ 
Viel.  "  O  fons  Blandusia,  non  sine  floribus,  aras  dona- 
beris  hatdo,  cni  frons  turgida  cornibus  primis,  which 
means  that,  to-morrow,  when  saying  mass,  I  shall  offer 
special  thanks  for  these  news.  But  night  comes  apace, 
my  son  ;  let  us  retire.  I  can  no  longer  read  even  the 
superscription  of  this  letter.  Before  we  go,  however, 
as  our  news  are  so  cheering,  let  us  make  a  libation  to 
the  gods.  Per  Bacchum,  this  wine  is  excellent.  Nunc 
est  bibendum,  Horace  would  certainly  have  said  on  such 
an  occasion.  Fill  up,  boy ;  here  is  a  bumper  to  the 
prosperity  of  the  gentle  Calandro  and  of  the  oak-ribbed 
Joseph  Lakanal,  for  they  are  very  unlike,  although 
intimate  friends.  May  they  ever  remain  so !  "  Down 
went  the  glorious  liquid,  titillating  the  throat  of  the 
good-natured  scholar-priest,  who  smacked  his  lips 
after  the  operation  was  over.  The  abbe  was  temper 
ate,  but  he  knew  how  to  enjoy  a  generous  cup  of  un 
adulterated  wine.  After  the  third  glass  he  used  to 
say  on  convivial  occasions :  "  yam  satis  est,  enough  ; 
it  is  enough."  At  that  moment  the  captain,  return 
ing  from  the  deck  above,  joined  them  and  called  for 
another  bottle. 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  abbe.  "  Non  ego  te,  candide  Bas- 
sartu,  invitum  quatiam,  nee  variis  obsita  frondibus  sub 
divum  rapiam,  which  means,  my  sea-faring  friend  :  I 
will  not  abuse  thy  gifts,  O  Bacchus,  nor  shall  I,  by 
taking  off  my  wig  in  a  fit  of  inebriation,  uncover  the 
nakedness  of  my  bald  head,  which  ought  to  remain 


A  UBER T  D UBA  YET.  Io/ 

hid."  The  abbe,  as  we  see,  had  rather  an  original 
and  eccentric  way  of  translating  his  favorite  author, 
when  in  a  familiar  mood,  for  the  benefit  of  his  un 
learned  friends. 

At  the  corner  of  Bourbon  and  St.  Philip  streets 
stood  the  dwelling  house  of  the  Dubayet  family.  It 
had,  at  the  time  our  story  begins,  only  three  inmates, 
widow  Dubayet,  Aubert  Dubayet,  her  son,  and  the 
abbe  Viel.  In  the  week  following  the  arrival  of  the 
French  vessel,  on  a  certain  evening,  widow  Dubayet, 
a  lofty-looking  dame,  dressed  in  mourning  weeds  and 
still  retaining  considerable  traces  of  faded  beauty,  was 
reclining  in  a  large  arm-chair  in  front  of  a  chimney 
where  blazed  a  cheerful  fire.  She  looked  sad  and  in 
bad  health,  sighing  occasionally,  particularly  when 
she  looked  at  an  oil  portrait  hung  over  the  mantel 
piece  ;  it  represented  an  officer  in  full  regimentals, 
and  wearing  on  his  breast  the  decoration  of  the  Cross 
of  St.  Louis.  There  was  such  a  strong  likeness  be 
tween  that  portrait  and  young  Dubayet,  that  it  was 
easy  to  guess  what  had  been  the  relationship  existing 
between  the  two  persons.  '  It  was  a  remarkably  hand 
some  face,  with  an  expression  of  great  decision  of 
character  stamped  upon  it.  The  lady  had  her  eyes 
fixed  on  those  features  still  living  on  the  canvas  be 
fore  her  and  in  her  fond  recollection,  when  her  son 
entered  in  full  ball  costume.  He  approached  his 
mother  respectfully,  and  imprinted  a  kiss  on  her  fore 
head.  "  His  image!  "  muttered  the  widow  to  herself, 
as  she  gazed  at  him  admiringly,  and  said  : 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Aubert  ?  " 

"  To  an  entertainment,  mother,  at  the  house  of 
Olivier  de  Maison  Rouge." 

The  widow  grew  deadly  pale  and  carried  her  hand 


20  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

to  her  heart,  as  if  a  sudden  pang  had  shot  through 
it.  "  My  son,"  she  said  with  a  tremulous  voice,  "  I 
thought  I  had  requested  you  not  to  frequent  that 
house." 

"  I  tried  to  obey  you,  mother,"  replied  the  youth. 
"  God  knows  what  efforts  I  made.  It  happened,  how- 
ever,  to  be  too  late  when  you  spoke.  My  own  affec 
tions  I  might  have  controlled  for  your  sake.  But 
when  I  discovered  that  I  had  secured  the  heart  of 
Emilie  de  Maison  Rouge,  I  knew  of  no  satisfactory 
reason  why  I  should  crush  it." 

"  Can  you  believe,  Aubert,  that  there  was  none  sat 
isfactory  to  your  mother  when  she  addressed  such  a 
request  to  you?" 

"  Your  reasons,  whatever  they  may  be,  you  have 
not  been  pleased  to  make  known  to  me.  For  me, 
therefore,  they  do  not  exist,  and  perhaps  it  is  better 
now  that  they  should  not  be  communicated,  for  I  may 
as  well,  mother,  avail  myself  of  this  opportunity  to 
inform  you  that  I  am  engaged  to  Emilie  de  Maison 
Rouge." 

"  Engaged  !  affianced  !  "  shrieked  the  widow,  as  she 
rose  from  her  seat  and  advanced  toward  her  son  with 
a  face  which  was  the  very  picture  of  horror  and  des 
pair.  "  You,"  she  said,  "  you,  Aubert  Dubayet,  marry 
Emilie  de  Maison  Rouge  !  Never,  never  !  " 

So  shocked  and  astonished  was  Aubert  at  the  con 
dition  in  which  he  saw  his  mother  that  he  could  only 
stammer  out :  "  Mother,  what  is  the  matter?  What 
is  the  cause  of  this  terrible  excitement  ?  What  can 
be  said  against  the  Maison  Rouges?  They  are  fully 
our  equals  ;  they  rank  among  our  best  families,  and 
the  breath  of  scandal  has  never  attacked  them.  I 
have  long  been  aware  of  your  personal  dislike  to  them 


A  UBER T  D UBA  YET.  21 

But  on  what  is  it  founded?  And  should  any  such 
thing,  or  any  unaccountable  prejudice,  be  in  the  way 
of  your  son's  happiness  and  honor  ?  I  say  honor,  for 
my  honor  is  pledged.  How  could  I  break  my  engage 
ment  ?  Ask  for  my  life,  but  not  for  more.  I  can  not 
consent  to  disgrace  my  father's  name." 

"  Boy,"  exclaimed  the  lady  impetuously,  "  dare  not 
interrogate  me.  I  forbid  that  marriage  in  God's  name, 
whatever  may  be  the  consequences.  That  is  enough. 
It  can  not,  it  shall  not  ever  take  place." 

"  Madam,"  replied  Aubert,  respectfully,  but  firmly, 
"  I  am  of  age  to-morrow,  and  although  it  will  grieve 
me  much  to  displease  you,  that  marriage  shall  take 
place  in  due  time,  unless  you  give  me  the  most  satis 
factory  reasons  why  it  should  not  ";  and,  bowing  low 
to  his  mother,  he  walked  out. 

Widow  Dubayet  stood  motionless  for  a  while  in  the 
middle  of  the  room,  and  appeared  to  have  assumed 
the  rigidity  of  a  statue.  But  at  last,  coming  to  her 
self  as  it  were,  she  dropped  on  her  knees  and  prayed 
fervently.  Then  she  rose,  and  rang  a  little  bell  which 
she  took  from  a  table  near  her  arm-chair.  A  black 
servant  answered  the  summons.  "  Is  Labbe,  Viel  in 
his  room  ?  "  she  inquired. 

"  Yes,  madam." 

"  Tell  him  that  I  beg  the  favor  of  his  coming  to  me 
instantly." 

The  abbe,  soon  made  his  appearance,  and  widow 
Dubayet,  advancing  toward  him  with  hurried  steps, 
said  :  "  Excuse  my  disturbing  you  at  this  late  hour, 
father,  but  I  shall  not  detain  you  long.  I  am  much 
agitated,  as  you  see,  and  need  repose  and  solitude  for 
the  present.  All  I  want  to  say  is,  that  I  must  see 
you  in  the  confessional  at  church  to-morrow,  at  seven 


22  A  UBEK  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

in  the  morning.  I  am  sworn  to  a  fearful  secret,  but  I 
must  break  my  oath.  On  that  point  I  wish  to  consult 
you,  and  now,  good-night." 

The  good  abbe  saw  that  this  was  not  the  moment 
to  ask  for  any  explanation,  and  retired  in  great  sur 
prise,  without  addressing  one  word  to  the  lady,  and 
without  trying  to  soothe  her  evident  anguish.  But 
as  he  walked  back  slowly  to  his  room  through  a  dimly- 
lighted  passage,  he  kept  muttering  to  himself :  "  What 
earthquake  is  this  ?  What  is  in  the  wind  ?  There  is 
a  storm  brewing  surely.  How  shall  I  prepare  for  it  ? 
The  omens  are  not  favorable.  Is  it  prcegnans  cants, 
aut  ab  agro  rava  decurrens  lupa  Lanumno,  fcetaque 
vulpes  f  But,  dog  or  wolf,  I  must  conjure  down  the 
evil  fiend.  Ego  cut  titncbo,  providus  auspex  ;  antequam 
stantes  repetat  paludes  imbrium  divina  avis  immenen- 
tum,  oscinem  corvum  precesuscitabo  so/is  ab  ortu.  That 
is  to  say,  I  will,  before  going  to  bed,  read  two  odes 
of  Horace,  two  chapters  of  St.  John,  and  repeat  twice 
my  evening  prayers,  adding  a  special  one  to  St.  Peter 
and  St.  Paul." 

The  next  day  when  Aubert  came  to  breakfast  at 
the  regular  hour,  he  was  astonished  at  being  told  that 
his  mother  had  gone  out,  and,  when  she  left  the  house, 
had  given  strict  orders  that  the  morning  meal  should 
not  be  delayed  on  her  account,  because  it  was  more 
than  probable  that  she  could  not  return  in  time  for  it. 
As  to  L'abbe  Viel,  he  had  also  risen  very  early,  had 
gone  out  with  Madam  Dubayet,  and  came  back  alone, 
looking  as  if  he  were  insane,  crossing  himself,  and 
jabbering  Latin  with  such  gesticulations  as  to  frighten 
all  the  servants,  who  thought  that  he  must  have  met 
the  devil,  or  some  other  awful  apparition.  "  Tell  Au 
bert,  if  he  should  inquire  for  me,"  had  the  abbe  said 


A  UB£R T  D UBA  YET.  23 

to  one  of  the  sable  menials,  "  that  I  wish  to  be  left 
undisturbed  in  my  room  until  dinner-time,  and  that 
he  must  excuse  my  not  joining  him  at  the  breakfast 
table  to-day."  This  increased  Aubert's  surprise,  and 
a  presentiment  of  evil  came  over  him.  He  hardly 
tasted  the  repast  which  had  been  spread  before  him, 
and  retired  to  a  room  of  which  he  had  made  a  library 
— a  sanctum  for  the  abbe  and  himself.  There  they 
used  to  have  their  familiar  daily  chats — the  abbe, 
of  course,  leading  the  conversation,  which  seldom 
ended  without  his  carrying  his  pupil  back  to  his 
former  studies  of  classical  lore  when  on  the  benches 
of  the  school.  Aubert  was  listlessly  holding  a  book 
in  his  hand,  and  trying  in  vain  to  fix  his  atten 
tion  on  what  he  was  attempting  to  read,  when  his 
mother  entered.  He  was  painfully  struck  with  the 
evidence  of  deep  suffering  which  he  observed  in  her 
face.  She  looked  almost  livid.  Aubert  rose,  took  her 
hand,  which  shook  like  an  aspen  leaf,  kissed  it  rever 
ently,  and  led  her  to  a  seat.  She  remained  silent, 
striving,  as  it  were,  to  nerve  herself,  while  one  or 
two  slight  spasmodic  contractions  of  the  lips  showed 
some  deep  agony  at  work  in  the  heart's  core.  After 
a  pause  which  appeared  to  Aubert  to  last  an  age, 
she  said :  "  My  son,  are  you  still  irrevocably  bent  on 
that  marriage?" 

"  How  can  it  be  otherwise,  dearest  mother,  unless, 
as  I  told  you  yesterday,  you  give  me  the  most  satis 
factory  reason  for  not  keeping  my  plighted  faith — a 
reason  which  I  can  communicate  to  E;nilie  de  Maison 
Rouge,  and  which  may  free  me  from  my  obligations 
without  disgrace,  although  it  may  break  my  heart  ?  " 

"  O  my  son,  my  son  ! "  exclaimed  the  lady.  "  What 
have  you  done,  and  what  are  you  compelling  me  to 


24  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

do !  But,  since  it  must  be,  let  it  be.  O  God  !  O 
God  !  How  dreadful  are  the  consequences  of  sin !  " 
She  drew  from  her  bosom  a  letter  which  she  presented 
to  her  son,  saying :  "This  is  a  communication  from 
Madam  de  Maison  Rouge  to  your  father.  It  acci 
dentally,  and  I  now  say  providentially,  came  to  my 
hand — providentially,  because  it  will  prevent  the  per 
petration  of  a  crime.  It  destroyed  my  happiness, 
Aubert,  but  I  long  ago  forgave  your  father,  and  prom 
ised  him  on  oath  never  to  divulge  the  secret  to  any 
human  being.  My  son,  Emilie  de  Maison  Rouge  is 
your  sister." 

Aubert  leaped  from  his  seat,  uttered  a  wild,  pierc 
ing  cry,  and  fell  senseless  on  the  floor. 

One  month  after  this  event,  Emilie  de  Maison  Rouge, 
reduced  to  despair  by  the  inexplicable  desertion  of 
Aubert,  who  could  not  divulge  to  her  the  secret  com 
municated  to  him  by  his  mother,  had  entered  the 
convent  of  the  Ursulines  with  the  intention  of  taking 
the  veil,  and  Labbe  Viel  had  been  ordered  by  his 
Superior  in  the  province  to  accomplish  a  certain  mis 
sion  in  the  fertile,  but  almost  uncultivated  prairies  of 
Attakapas,  and  to  ascertain  by  what  means  the  sparse 
population  of  that  extensive  district,  consisting  of 
whites,  blacks,  and  Indians,  could  be  best  and  most 
speedily  educated  and  civilized.  As  to  Aubert  Du- 
bayet,  he  had  departed  for  France  in  that  very  ship 
which,  with  the  abbe  Viel,  he  had  visited  on  her  ar 
rival,  and  which  had  brought  him  welcomed  letters 
from  Calandro  and  Lakanal.  There  are  times  when, 
for  individuals  as  for  nations,  changes  and  revolutions 
chase  each  other  with  the  fleetness  of  a  race-horse. 
What  was  the  day  before,  is  not  to  be  found,  or  rec 
ognized,  on  the  next  morning ;  something  has  passed 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  2$ 

over  it  by  which  it  is  obliterated  or  transformed ; 
events  are  often  accelerated  in  their  march  and  crowd 
ed  together,  as  if  fate  itself  was  in  a  hurry  to  accom 
plish  its  decrees,  and  was  subject  to  fits  of  impatience 
and  precipitation. 

Aubert  Dubayet  reached  safely  the  shores  of  France. 
Without  a  moment's  delay  he  went  to  Versailles,  and 
asked  for  an  audience  of  the  Minister  of  War,  Mar 
shal  Rochambeau,  to  whom  he  was  distantly  related, 
and  to  whom  he  had  a  letter  of  introduction.  The 
marshal  received  him  kindly,  and  inquired  whether 
he  could  do  anything  for  his  service.  "  Much,"  re 
plied  Dubayet,  gloomily.  "  I  wish  for  the  opportu 
nity  of  being  killed.  Send  me  to  the  battle-field,  and 
you  will  have  done  for  me  what  I  most  desire." 

The  marshal  looked  at  him  fixedly,  and,  taking  his 
hand,  which  he  pressed,  said  in  a  tone  not  devoid  of 
sympathy,  although  a  slight  smile  was  perceptible  on 
his  lips  :  "  Bah  !  nonsense  !  What  misfortune  could, 
on  the  threshold  of  life,  have  been  so  serious  and  so 
irreparable  as  to  make  it  hateful  to  you  ?  You  have 
not  lived  and  suffered  enough,  to  have  the  right  and 
che  wish  to  die  so  soon.  Your  adolescent  grief,  on 
whose  chin  beard  has  not  had  time  to  grow,  will  pass 
off  like  a  spell  of  fever.  Stir  up,  stir  up,  put  spurs 
on  your  heels,  serve  your  king  and  country,  and  do 
not  mope  like  an  owl  in  a  corner.  All  that  you  need 
is  occupation  for  mind  and  body — a  purpose — an 
object  in  life — a  career — action — action  !  Well,  let 
me  be  your  physician,  and  I  shall  cure  you.  The 
king  sends  a  body  of  troops  to  the  assistance  of  the 
North  Americans,  who  are  struggling  for  indepen 
dence  against  Great  Britain.  The  expedition  will 
sail  from  Brest  in  six  days.  I  advise  you  to  join  it. 


26  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

If  you  consent,  I  offer  you  a  commission  of  second 
lieutenant  in  the  regiment  of  Ag6nois,  commanded 
by  the  marquis  of  Autichamp,  a  brave  officer." 

"  I  accept  with  gratitude,"  replied  Dubayet. 

"  Very  well,"  said  the  marshal,  "  I  compliment  you 
on  your  decision."  After  having  signed  the  commis 
sion  and  handed  it  to  the  new  lieutenant,  he  added : 
"  When  we  meet  again  I  expect,  young  man,  to  see 
you  with  a  higher  grade."  Aubert  shook  his  head 
with  an  expression  of  profound  dejection. 

"  Pshaw,  pshaw  !  "  said  the  marshal.  "  You  mean 
that  you  will  seek  death.  That  is  the  very  reason 
why  you  will  not  meet  it.  We  know  that,  we  veter 
ans,  who  have  faced  it  so  often.  Death  and  Dame 
Fortune  are  very  capricious.  That's  one  thing  which 
they  have  in  common.  Be  of  good  cheer;  you  may 
yet  rise  to  be  what  I  am.  I  remember  that  I,  too, 
was  once  inconsolable.  But  gun-powder  is  an  excel 
lent  cordial.  It  soon  exhilarated  and  cured  me ;  it 
will  have  the  same  effect  on  you.  Good-bye,  and  suc 
cess  to  your  maiden  sword.  I  will  not  lose  sight  of 
you,  and  I  expect  from  your  colonel  a  favorable  re 
port  of  your  gallantry  at  the  first  battle  that  shall  be 
fought  in  America." 


CHAPTER   II. 

THE  CONCERT  GIVEN  TO  ROYALTY — THE  PRINCESS 
DE  LAMBALLE— IS  THERE  ANYTHING  IN  OMENS, 
PRESAGES,  AND  PRESENTIMENTS  ? 

ON  his  leaving  the  marshal  de  Rochambeau,  Du- 
bayet  hastened  to  look  for  Augustin  Calandrano.  The 
meeting  of  the  two  friends  was  warm  and  genial. 
Tintin  Calandro  (to  call  him  by  the  name  under  which 
he  was  generally  better  known)  was  found  in  a  state 
of  intense  excitement.  There  was  to  be,  on  the  even 
ing  of  that  very  day,  at*  the  Hotel  de  Toulouse,  where 
resided  the  princess  de  Lamballe,  a  great  concert,  and 
the  king  and  queen  were  to  honor  it  with  their  pres 
ence.  Tintin  being  the  chief  of  the  musicians  of  the 
princess,  the  whole  responsibility  of  the  entertain 
ment  rested  on  him.  "  I  want  you  there,"  he  said  to 
Dubayet.  "  I  will  have  a  seat  for  you  in  the  orches 
tra,  not  to  admire  my  music,  of  course,  but  to  enjoy 
the  brilliancy  of  the  audience.  You  will  see  our  good 
and  excellent  king,  our  lovely  Queen  Marie  Antoin 
ette,  the  worthy  daughter  of  the  Caesars,  and  above 
all,  you  will  see  the  princess  de  Lamballe,  the  gem  of 
the  illustrious  house  of  Savoy,  the  paragon  of  all  the 
excellencies  of  which  the  earth  is  susceptible." 

"  Take  care,"  said  Dubayet,  smiling.  "  You  talk 
like  a  Romeo  and  betray  your  love." 

"  Betray !  I  am  ready  to  proclaim  it  on  the  house 
tops,"  replied  Tintin.  "  Why  should  not  a  man  open- 

(27) 


28  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

ly  worship  the  star  that  twinkles  in  the  distant  firma 
ment  ?  What  can  be  more  harmless?  I  love  the 
princess  as  I  love  all  that  is  most  exquisite  in  the  fine 
arts  ;  I  love  her  as  I  love  beauty,  eloquence,  heroism, 
the  royalty  of  intellect,  the  royalty  of  birth,  and  the 
rarest  endowments  of  the  heart  and  soul.  I  love  all 
these  things  united  in  the  embodiment  of  what  may 
be  deemed  by  others  ideal  perfection,  but  which  to 
me  is  actual  reality.  My  love  is  the  love  of  seraphic 
innocence,  that  kind  of  love  which  must  be  the  all- 
pervading  fluid  of  paradise  and  the  music  of  the 
celestial  spheres.  I  lose  sight  of  earth,  my  friend, 
when  I  look  at  the  princess,  and  nothing  of  earth  re 
mains  in  me.  I  will  introduce  you  to  her,  and  you 
will  understand  my  feelings,  when  you  shall  witness 
the  halo  which  encircles  her  brow." 

"I  shall  hardly  have  time,"  said  Dubayet,  "  to  avail 
myself  of  the  honor  which  you  offer  to  me,  in  utter 
forgetfulness  of  what  I  have  already  told  you — that  I 
depart  the  day  after  to-morrow  for  Brest,  with  the 
grade  of  lieutenant,  to  join  an  expedition  which  sails 
for  the  shores  of  the  colonies  of  Great  Britain  in 
North  America." 

"  True,  I  had  forgotten  it.  But,  nevertheless,  you 
shall  at  least  see  the  princess  this  evening,  although 
at  a  distance.  The  effulgence  which  beams  from  her 
person  will  reach  you,  and  will  be  sufficient  to  warm 
your  heart.  I'll  take  no  refusal.  You  will  sup  with 
me  after  the  concert,  and  to-morrow  we  shall  have 
Lakanal  to  dine  with  us.  I  will  write  him  an  invita 
tion  to  that  effect,  for  he  has  recently  come  to  Paris 
from  Toulouse,  in  whose  academy  he  is  a  professor, 
as  you  know.  These  are  vacation  times  for  him,  and 
he  makes  the  most  of  it  in  Paris  and  Versailles,  rub- 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


29 


bing  off,  as  he  says,  his  provincial  rust,  and  sharpening 
himself  on  the  grinding-stone  of  civilization." 

"Very  well,"  said  Dubayet,  "  I  consent,  with  pleas 
ure,  to  all  you  desire.  Adieu,  to  meet  again  soon. 
In  the  meantime,  I  must  be  preparing  and  packing 
for  my  departure  the  day  after  to-morrow." 

Dubayet,  according  to  his  engagement,  attended 
the  concert  to  which  he  had  been  invited  by  Tintin 
Calandro,  and,  mingling  with  the  musicians,  witnessed 
from  among  them  the  brilliant  display  made  on  that 
occasion  by  the  most  refined  court  in  Europe.  It  ex 
ceeded  all  the  glorious  dreams  in  which  his  imagina 
tion  had  ever  indulged.  Here  stood  royalty  in  all  its 
antique  and  hereditary  splendor,  and  radiant  with  the 
proud  consciousness  of  its  secure  duration.  Here  was 
the  cherished  incarnation  of  a  traditional  principle ; 
and,  to  defend  it,  if  threatened,  who  then  doubted 
that  the  loyal  sword  of  France  would  leap  from  its 
scabbard?  Here  the  most  polished  gentlemen  of 
Christendom,  whose  breasts  glittered  with  stars,  and 
whose  heroic  names  had  for  a  thousand  years  bright 
ened  the  pages  of  history,  were  eagerly  pressing  round 
the  queen.  Surrounded  by  the  most  beautiful  and 
elegant  women  of  the  kingdom,  who  courted  her 
smiles,  she  herself  seemed  the  representation  of  en 
throned  happiness. 

A  piece  of  music  had  been  composed  for  the  occa 
sion  by  Tintin  Calandro.  At  the  end  of  .the  perform 
ance,  the  example  being  given  by  Louis,  a  whirlwind 
of  applause  rose  from  an  audience  composed  of  the 
gods  of  the  earth,  who  were  over-fastidious  in  their 
taste,  and  not  prone  to  manifestations  of  enthusiasm. 
This  time  these  exclamations  could  be  heard  bursting 
from  the  ambrosia-fed  lips  of  the  highest  in  high 


30  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

Olympus :  "  How  wonderful !  What  is  this  ?  There 
never  was  anything  like  it.  How  new!  How  orig 
inal,  how  eccentric !  But  what  genius  in  that  eccen 
tricity!"  Tintin  was  summoned  to  the  presence  of 
the  king,  who  complimented  him  graciously,  and  dec 
orated  him  with  the  cross  of  St.  Louis,  as  one  of  the 
most  distinguished  artists  of  France.  The  queen  was 
profuse  in  her  praises,  and  encircling  a  magnificent 
bouquet  she  held  in  her  hand  with  a  heavy  chain 
bracelet  of  gold  studded  with  diamonds,  which  she 
detached  from  her  arm,  presented  it  to  the  astonished 
musician.  The  princess  de  Lamballe,  delighted  with 
the  success  of  the  entertainment  she  had  given  to 
royalty,  approached  Tintin  Calandro  in  her  turn,  and, 
in  the  sweetest  tones  of  her  silvery  voice,  expressed 
her  acknowledgments  to  him.  "  My  Orpheus,"  she 
said,  "  it  would  ill  befit  me  to  compete  with  the  Maj 
esties  of  France,  who  have  to-day  so  munificently  and 
openly  honored  you  with  testimonials  of  their  appre 
ciation.  I  shall,  therefore,  content  myself  with  pre 
senting  a  mere  trifle  to  your  acceptance.  I  am  sitting 
for  my  portrait  to  a  young  artist,  a  man  of  genius 
like  yourself.  It  shall  be  sent  to  you  as  soon  as  fin 
ished."  Tintin  had  received  with  self-possession  the 
compliments  of  the  king  and  queen;  but,  on  being 
thus  addressed  by  the  princess  de  Lamballe,  his  agita 
tion  was  such  that  it  could  not  be  concealed  from 
those  who  happened  to  have  their  eyes  fixed  on  him. 
He  bowed  to  the  ground  without  being  able  to  reply, 
and,  when  attempting  to  withdraw  from  her  presence, 
seemed  so  exhausted  from  the  excess  of  his  emotion, 
that  one  of  his  colleagues  of  the  orchestra  stepped 
forward,  and  offering  his  arm,  led  him  away. 

An  hour  afterward,  Dubayet  and  Tintin  Calandro 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  3! 

were  supping  together.  Tintin  had  invited  no  one 
else,  as  he  wished  to  be  alone  with  his  college  chum, 
whom  he  had  so  recently  met,  and  from  whom  he  was 
again  to  be  soon  separated.  The  conversation  turned, 
of  course,  on  the  concert,  the  great  event  of  the  even 
ing.  "It  was  truly,"  said  Dubayet,  "a  fairy  scene, 
too  dazzling  to  mere  mortals  like  me — so  much  light 
that  one  could  hardly  have  believed  in  the  existence 
of  darkness  in  this  world — such  gorgeousness  of  wealth 
as  to  exclude  the  conception  of  poverty — and  such  an 
overflowing  of  all  those  things  which  ought  to  consti 
tute  happiness,  that  it  seemed  to  leave  no  room  for 
the  intrusion  of  that  little  drop  of  water  which  often 
falls  from  human  eyes,  and  which  is  called  a  tear." 

Tintin  became  agitated,  as  if  these  words  had 
touched  in  him  some  secret  spring  of  grief,  or  awak 
ened  some  fearful  apprehension,  and  buried  his  head 
between  his  hands.  After  a  little  while,  he  looked  up, 
and  said :  "  Aubert,  you  have  heard  of  second  sight, 
or  some  sort  of  mysterious  gift,  or  curse,  as  the  case 
may  be,  which  goes  by  more  than  one  name.  Do 
you  believe  in  it?" 

"  No,"  replied  Aubert. 

"  I  do,"  continued  Tintin  Calandro.  "  I  know  two 
men  who  belong  to  that  sect  whose  members  are 
called  illuminati,  and  at  whose  visions  the  world 
laughs.  One  is  named  Cazotte,  and  the  other  Gass- 
ner.  Cazotte  is  here  ;  Gassner  in  Vienna.  The  skep 
tic  may  say  what  he  pleases,  but  surely  they  are 
strange  men,  possessing  unknown  and  terrible  facul 
ties.  I  know  of  certain  predictions  of  theirs  which 
make  my  flesh  creep.  Shake  not  your  head.  They 
have  but  too  often  proved  to  be  true  prophets." 

"  What  are  those  predictions  ?  "  inquired  Dubayet, 


32  A  UBER T  D UBA  YE T. 

"  I  shall  only  mention  two,  which  I  wish  to  remain 
buried  in  your  breast  as  in  a  tomb.  It  is  almost  trea 
son  to  speak  of  them." 

"  I  almost  shudder  in  anticipation  and  on  trust," 
said  Dubayet,  laughing  and  emptying  a  glass  of  wine. 

"  Alas,"  groaned  Tintin.  "  Treat  not  so  slightingly 
what  I  am  going  to  divulge.  As  the  great  dramatic 
poet  of  England  has  said — 

" '  There  are  more  things  in  heaven  and  earth,  Horatio, 
Than  are  dreamt  of  in  your  philosophy.' 

But  to  the  point.  Gassner,  to  avoid  persecutions 
which  his  visions  and  his  religious  doctrines  had 
brought  upon  him  in  his  native  country,  had  fled  to 
Vienna,  when  our  present  queen  was  still  a  child.  He 
was  presented  to  the  empress  Maria  Theresa,  who  be 
came  fond  of  him  and  took  a  strange  pleasure  in  list 
ening  to  his  wild  revelations,  although  she  some 
times  ridiculed,  or  pretended  to  ridicule,  them.  '  Tell 
me,'  she  one  day  said  to  him,  '  tell  me,  since  you  have 
the  privilege  of  knowing  the  future,  if  my  Antoinette 
shall  be  happy.'  He  became  very  pale,  and  did  not 
answer.  The  empress  insisted  on  a  reply,  and  Gass 
ner,  daring  neither  to  continue  silent,  nor  to  speak  to 
the  point,  said  evasively :  '  Madam,  there  are  crosses 
for  all  shoulders.'  I  met  him,  some  years  after  the 
marriage  of  the  archduchess  of  Austria  with  the 
dauphin  of  France,  now  Louis  XVI.,  and  having 
heard  of  the  anecdote,  I  interrogated  him  about  it. 
He  burst  into  tears,  and  requested  me  never  to  ap 
proach  him  on  that  subject." 

"  And  can  you  permit,  my  friend,"  asked  Aubert, 
"  the  nonsensical  imaginings  of  diseased  brains  to 
have  any  influence  over  your  mind  ?  " 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


33 


"  Nonsensical  imaginings  !  But  are  not  the  pages 
of  history  full  of  portents,  presentiments,  and  pres 
ages  which  did  not  turn  out  to  be  without  a  meaning, 
notwithstanding  the  sneers  of  what  goes  by  the 
name  of  philosophy?  I  can  not  but  be  alarmed, 
when  I  remember  that  Marie  Antoinette  was  born  on 
the  day  of  the  earthquake  of  Lisbon — that  never-to- 
be-forgotten  disaster — and  it  is  not  a  disconnected 
omen.  At  the  precise  moment  when  her  wedding 
took  place  at  Versailles,  the  sky,  which  had  been  pure 
and  serene  before,  became  dark  with  clouds,  and  the 
most  dreadful  storm  burst  out  on  a  sudden,  shook  to 
its  foundations  the  palace  of  our  kings,  and  did  infi 
nite  damage  wide  and  far.  A  few  days  afterward 
there  were  public  rejoicings  in  Paris  to  commemorate 
the  royal  marriage.  What  happened  ?  A  series  of 
the  most  heart-rending  accidents  which  caused  the 
death  of  more  than  twelve  hundred  persons.  Nay, 
more — the  prime  minister,  the  duke  de  Choiseul,  who 
negotiated  that  marriage,  was  shortly  after  exiled  by 
Louis  XV.,  notwithstanding  the  entreaties  of  Marie 
Antoinette,  duchess  of  Berri  and  dauphiness  of 
France.  But  this  is  enough.  I  will  not  go  over  all 
the  mournful  and  death-ringing  links  of  the  long 
chain  of  extraordinary  presages  concerning  her." 

"  Bah  !  "  said  Dubayet ;  "  can  you  seriously  be  af 
fected  by  such  things?  Can  you  attach  any  impor 
tance  to  coincidences?" 

"  Certainly  not,  were  I  to  take  it  for  granted,  like 
other  people,  that  an  accident,  or  incident,  is  the  re 
sult  of  chance.  But  I  do  not  believe  that  there  is 
any  room  left  for  chance  in  the  mathematical  creation 
of  the  omnipotent  geometrician.  This  little  world 
of  ours,  as  we  understand  it  with  our  dim  and  con- 
2* 


34  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

tracted  intellect,  apparently  teems  with  accidents. 
Our  life  looks  as  if  made  up  of  them.  But  there  are 
no  accidents  for  God.  They  are  incompatible  with 
His  providence  and  prescience.  The  infinite  universe 
could  not  hold  on  one  minute  together,  if  any  hole 
in  it,  however  small  it  might  be,  had  been  permitted 
to  exist,  so  as  to  allow  an  accident  to  creep  in.  There 
would  be  an  entire  disorganization  of  the  whole  ma 
chinery.  Hence,  I  do  not  see  why  what  we  call  acci 
dents  and  coincidences  should  not  have  a  language 
and  a  meaning,  if  in  reality  they  are,  as  T  think,  pre 
concerted  events,  with  mysterious  connections  which 
we  do  not  comprehend,  but  which  have  something  to 
do  with  our  destinies." 

"Very  well,  go  on,"  said  Dubayet.  "  I  am  not  in 
clined  to  contradiction  to-night,  and  shall  take  care 
that  our  conversation  does  not  degenerate  into  a  misty 
metaphysical  discussion.  If  you  have  done  with 
Gassner,  what  of  Cazotte  ?  I  like  prophets,  for  I  like 
the  supernatural.  The  world  is  so  commonplace, 
stale,  and  flat !  The  supernatural  is  the  champagne 
of  the  banquet  of  life.  Let  us  have  some  of  it  by 
all  means.  Off  with  the  cork,  pop,  pop !  The  cup 
of  credulity  is  ready." 

"  Well,  then,"  continued  Tinto  Calandro,  "  when  the 
present  king  ascended  the  throne  there  were  great 
festivities  in  Paris.  On  the  Place  Louis  XV.  there 
was  to  be  a  grand  display  of  fireworks,  which  the 
king  was  to  grace  with  his  presence  and  that  of  the 
queen.  My  father  then  occupied  an  apartment,  the 
windows  of  which  opened  on  the  Place,  and  com 
manded  a  full  view  of  it.  Cazotte  had  dined  with 
us,  and  we  were  all  three  gazing  at  the  vast  multitude 
before  us,  when  the  king,  the  queen,  and  their  suite 


A  UBERT  DUB  A  YET.  35 

made  their  appearance,  and  ascended  the  platform 
which  had  been  prepared  for  them.  Cazotte  fixed  his 
weird  looks  intently  on  the  prince  and  kept  them 
riveted  on  him,  until  he  was  thrown  into  a  sort  of 
trance,  during  which  he  raved  incoherently.  '  Ah ! 
Louis,  ah  !  Louis,'  he  exclaimed,  '  that  is  the  very 
spot  where  your  scaffold  shall  be  erected,  and  where 
the  public  executioner  shall  cut  off  your  head,  and 
show  it  in  triumph  to  a  demon-possessed  multitude.' 
He  continued  his  horrible  vaticinations  amidst  sobs 
and  shrieks,  until  he  fell  into  a  complete  state  of  cata 
lepsy,  in  which  he  remained  several  hours,  as  if  dead. 
If  you  knew  Cazotte  as  well  as  I  do,  you  would  not 
think  so  lightly  of  this  tale  of  mine,  preposterously 
monstrous  and  evidently  impossible  as  the  prediction 
may  sound." 

"  Preposterously  monstrous,  yes ;  but  evidently  im 
possible,  no,"  said  Dubayet.  "  Did  not  Charles  Stuart 
die  on  the  scaffold  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  "  replied  Tintin,  "  that  was  in  England.  But 
in  France ! Pshaw  !  " 

"Revolutions  are  cosmopolites,"  said  Dubayet, 
dryly.  "  Whenever  and  wherever  they  set  society 
topsy-turvy,  the  king  and  the  rag-picker  are  on  a  foot 
ing  of  equality,  and  when  time-honored  institutions 
are  tumbling  down  on  all  sides  by  the  shaking  of  an 
universal  earthquake,  when  the  world  is  playing  at 
somersaults,  and  old  chaos  claims  his  own  again,  I 
would  rather  insure  the  rag-picker's  head  than  the 
king's.  I  do  not  wish  to  be  a  prophet  of  evil  like 
your  Gassner  and  your  Cazotte,  but,  methinks,  I  hear 
strange  rumblings  in  the  bowels  of  the  worn-out  Eu 
ropean  monarchies.  Even  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Atlantic,  in  new-born  and  virgin  America,  I  hear  an 


36  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

ominous  shout,  which  may  be  re-echoed  from  pole  to 
pole.  Remember  one  strange  fact.  In  a  few  days  I 
shall,  by  the  order  of  the  descendant  of  a  long  line  of 
kings  and  under  the  lily  flag  of  France,  be  on  my  way 
to  the  relief  of  rebels,  who  have  not  only  denounced 
their  legitimate  sovereign  and  impeached  him  at  the 
bar  of  their  own  self-instituted  tribunal,  but  also  pro 
claimed,  in  the  face  of  heaven  and  earth,  that  all  men 
are  born  free  and  equal.  You  who  believe  in  presages, 
what  think  you  of  that  one?" 

"  Alas,"  replied  Tintin  Calandro,  "  there  were  bad 
presages  enough  from  the  birth  of  the  king  to  the 
present  time.  He  was  born  at  Versailles  when  the 
king,  his  grandfather,  was  at  Choisy.  The  messenger 
who  carried  to  that  place  the  news  of  the  increase  of 
the  royal  family,  fell  from  his  horse  as  he  arrived,  and 
subsequently  died  in  consequence  of  that  fall.  Louis 
became  an  orphan  when  still  a  child  ;  he  lost  his 
father  and  mother  almost  at  the  same  time.  Bad 
luck,  bad  luck,  is  it  not?  On  the  death  of  his  elder 
brother,  when  he  heard  of  his  being  heir  to  the  throne, 
he  burst  into  tears  and  even  lost  his  senses.  Was  it  a 
presentiment  of  coming  evil  ?  And  finally,  when  he 
was  informed  of  the  king's  demise  and  of  his  acces 
sion  to  the  throne,  he  exclaimed :  '  O  God,  what  a 
misfortune  for  me!'  Was  it  again  a  presentiment? 
And  then  his  very  name !  There  hardly  ever  was  a 
duke  of  Berri  who  was  not  ill-fated.  How  strange  !  " 

Thus  they  communed  until  it  was  very  late  in  the 
night,  when  they  separated  after  having  made  the  en 
gagement  of  meeting  again  on  the  next  day,  to  dine 
with  their  classmate,  Joseph  Lakanal.  On  that  day, 
at  six  o'clock  in  the  afternoon,  the  three  friends  had 
come  together  at  a  private  room  bespoken  for  the 


A  UBER  T  D  USA  YE  T. 


37 


purpose  in  one  of  the  most  celebrated  restaiirants  of 
Paris.  Tintin  Calandro,  to  do  honor  to  his  two  guests, 
whom  he  was  so  happy  to  meet  and  to  entertain,  had 
put  on  his  best  apparel.  He  wore  a  blue  silk  coat, 
with  a  flowered  satin  under -vest,  chestnut-colored 
breeches,  white  stockings,  bright  gold  buckles  at  the 
knee,  and  still  brighter  ones,  if  possible,  on  his  highly 
polished  calf-skin  shoes.  On  his  breast  glittered  the 
Cross  of  St.  Louis,  which  had  been  given  to  him  by 
the  king  on  the  preceding  evening.  His  hair  was 
elaborately  powdered,  and  the  queue  which  fell  back 
over  his  collar  had  been  artistically  combed  and  tied 
with  a  glossy,  jet-black  ribbon.  Ruffles  and  shirt 
frills  of  exquisite  lace  completed  his  studiously  nice 
toilet.  A  steel-hilted  sword  was  suspended  to  his 
left  side,  and  a  large  diamond  sparkled  on  one  of  his 
prodigiously  elongated  fingers.  It  was  a  gala  day  for 
him  to  meet  his  school  friends,  so  that  the  princess 
de  Lamballe's  favorite  and  petted  maestro  had  been 
tempted  to  indulge  in  some  foppishness  of  dress. 
Lakanal  was  habited  as  ecclesiastics  were  in  those 
days.  His  black  gown  had  a  harsh  look,  which  cor 
responded  with  that  of  his  face.  Aubert  Dubayet 
sported  with  youthful  grace  the  elegant  uniform  of 
the  regiment  in  which  he  had  obtained  a  lieutenancy. 
But  a  black  crape,  the  badge  of  mourning,  encircled 
his  left  arm,  and  an  expression  of  sadness  dwelt  on 
his  handsome  features. 

"  My  friends,"  said  he,  after  having  exchanged 
greetings  with  Tintin  Calandro  and  Lakanal,  "  I  meet 
you  not  in  a  convivial  mood,  for  I  have  just  received 
a  letter  from  Uabbe  Viel,  who  informs  me  of  the  death 
of  my  mother  in  Louisiana,  from  which  I  lately  de 
parted  for  a  reason  that  brooked  no  delay.  She  was 


3g  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

in  precarious  health,  and  I  feared  what  has  happened. 
The  blow,  therefore,  was  not  unexpected,  but  it  is  not 
the  less  painful.  I  have  not  allowed  it,  however,  to 
prevent  me  from  keeping  my  engagement,  as  we  part 
to-morrow,  perhaps  never  to  meet  again.  I  am  now 
alone  in  the  world,  with  no  other  ties  than  those  which 
bind  us  together,  and  I  have  no  desire  to  prolong  my 
existence.  Probably  an  English  bullet  will  soon  carry 
me  off  in  Virginia,  or  in  Massachusetts." 

Tintin  embraced  him  tenderly  and  said:  "You  will 
live,  I  hope,  to  conquer  all  your  sorrows,  of  whatever 
nature  they  may  be,  and  to  serve  your  king  faithfully 
wherever  he  sends  you.  It  is  not  a  misfortune  to 
taste  of  sorrow  early  in  life.  Sorrow  is,  perhaps,  the 
strongest  pledge  and  proof  of  the  immortality  given 
to  us  by  Providence.  It  matures  the  heart  and  de 
velops  in  it  a  keener  and  clearer  sense  of  our  duties. 
Man  alone,  among  all  the  created  things  of  which  we 
have  any  knowledge,  has  duties  to  perform.  Hence 
sorrow  may  be  said  to  be  one  of  his  normal  attributes, 
and  the  assurance  of  eternal  life  with  eternal  obliga 
tions  to  discharge.  The  ox,  the  horse,  and  all  other 
creatures  moved  by  instinct  have  no  duties  imposed 
on  them,  and  are  incapable  of  guilt  and  virtue.  Man 
only  is  a  moral  being,  susceptible  of  sorrow  and  of 
the  knowledge  of  good  and  evil.  This  imposes  re 
sponsibility,  and  responsibility  to  God  implies  im 
mortality;  for  annihilation  would  put  on  the  same 
footing  vice  and  virtue.  I  do  not  know  but  what 
we  ought  to  thank  Heaven  for  what  lacerates  our 
hearts  when  we  are  still  in  the  vestibule  of  our  earthly 
career.  It  is  a  passport  to  a  better  life  here  and  here* 
after." 

"  Tintin,"  said  Lakanal,  "  you  were  born  a  preacher, 


A  UBER  T  D  USA  YE  T.  39 

and  you  have  missed  your  vocation.  It  is  your  pas 
sion  to  be  moralizing  forever,  even  in  this  butterfly 
dress  of  yours.  Although  more  worldly-minded  than 
you  are,  notwithstanding  my  canonicals,  I  am  as 
much  for  the  performance  of  duty  as  you  may  be, 
whether  it  secures,  or  not,  a  reward  in  another  world. 
But  it  is  a  pity  that  men  so  often  disagree  about  that 
fine  thing  called  duty,  particularly  duty  of  a  public 
and  political  nature.  Our  whole  country  will  soon 
.  fall  to  loggerheads  on  the  subject.  You,  for  instance, 
think  that  the  king  is  France,  and  that  France  is  the 
king.  You  are  an  intense  royalist.  For  me  France 
is  everything,  and  the  king  nothing.  I  am  an  intense 
republican.  Hence,  fill  your  glass  and  drink  to  Louis 
and  to  his  lieutenant  Dubayet,  whilst  I  drink  to  the 
rebels  of  America  and  to  all  those  who  go  to  their 
assistance,  including,  of  course,  our  dear  friend  here 
present." 

"  I  fill  to  the  brim,"  chimed  in  Tintin  Calandro, 
"and  here  is  my  sentiment:  Success  to  the  allies  of 
my  royal  master,  be  they  rebels,  republicans,  or  dev 
ils.  Good,  it  is  said,  frequently  comes  out  of  evil. 
What  matters  the  utensil  the  cook  has  used,  if  a 
palatable  dish  is  brought  out  of  it  ?  Therefore,  hur 
rah  for  the  Americans  and  the  foes  of  England !  " 

"  I.  join  in  your  libation,"  said  Dubayet  gravely, 
"  but  without  deciding  between  you.  I  am  not  in  a 
mood  just  now  to  care  much  for  royalists  or  republi 
cans." 

The  friends  spent  several  hours  together.  Their 
conversation  was  serious  and  argumentative  ;  not  a 
jest  enlivened  it.  Professor  Lakanal,  of  the  Low 
clergy,  represented  the  new  order  of  ideas  which  were 
developing  themselves.  Tintin  Calandro,  on  the  con- 


4o  ^  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

trary,  was  the  type  of  that  regime  which  was  passing 
away.  Dubayet  was  indifferent,  thoughtful,  and  ex 
pectant.  He  was  uncertain  of  what  he  might  or  might 
not  be,  and  careless  of  the  future.  This  trio  was  a 
faithful  representation  of  the  three  classes  into  which 
French  society  was  then  divided.  Dubayet  closed  the 
convivial  entertainment  over  which  so  much  sobriety 
and  gravity  had  presided,  by  proposing  this  toast : 
"  Whatever  the  future  may  have  in  store  for  us  and 
for  France,  may  we  ever  remain  friends ! "  They 
drank  to  this  sentiment  with  deep  emotion,  and  sepa 
rated  after  repeated  embraces.  They  retired  to  their 
respective  lodgings,  but  not  one  of  them  went  to 
bed  that  night.  In  the  reciprocal  exchange  of  their 
thoughts  and  feelings,  there  had  been  something 
which  had  produced  on  their  minds  an  impression 
that  defied  sleep.  Vague  presentiments,  instinctive 
apprehensions,  the  distant  gleam  of  future  events, 
weird  and  fantastic  imaginings,  flitted  confusedly  be 
fore  them,  casting  lights  and  shadows  over  the  mirror 
of  their  brain.  Lakanal,  when  he  reached  his  room, 
trimmed  his  lamp,  and  began  writing  a  treatise  on  the 
republics  of  Greece  and  Rome  which  he  intended  for 
publication.  Dubayet  opened  Polybius ;  and,  after 
reading  two  or  three  hours,  turned  to  a  map  of  the 
thirteen  revolted  colonies  of  Great  Britain,  and  be 
came  absorbed  in  its  study.  As  to  Tintin  Calandro, 
after  having  prayed  devoutly,  he  took  his  violin, 
and  the  most  plaintive  melodies  floated  away  on  the 
waves  of  the  midnight  air,  softening  into  tears  those 
whom  they  reached  in  their  sleep,  and  who  dreamed 
that  they  heard  the  harp  of  Israel  weeping  over  the 
fall  of  Jerusalem.  Tintin  was  a  poet,  and  had  also  the 
fearful  morbid  sensibilities  of  those  who  are  fatally 


A  UBER T  D USA  YET.  4! 

entitled  to  that  name.  His  conceptions,  although  not 
worked  out  in  metrical  numbers,  but  only  in  quavers 
and  crotchets,  were  not  the  less  poems  of  the  highest 
order.  The  rod  of  his  violin  was  his  pen,  and  his  soul- 
stirring  instrument  was  the  tablet  on  which  his  genius 
wrote  its  inspirations.  His  was  the  poetry  of  thought 
and  feeling  expressed  in  sounds  ;  and,  alas !  like  them, 
evanescent.  It  had  not  the  advantage  of  being  chis 
elled  in  those  words  that  are  more  lasting  than  brass, 
and  excite  the  admiration  of  posterity,  long  after  he 
who  uttered  them  has  been  chilled  into  the  silence  of 
death. 


CHAPTER   III. 

CONDITION  OF  THE  THIRTEEN  NORTH  AMERICAN 
COLONIES  OF  GREAT  BRITAIN  IN  1 780 — LIEU 
TENANT  AUBERT  DUBAYET  IN  NEWPORT,  RHODE 
ISLAND,  WITH  ROCHAMBEAU  AND  THE  FRENCH 
ARMY. 

WHEN  the  French  troops  of  which  the  regiment  of 
Aubert  Dubayet  was  a  part,  landed  in  1780  at  New 
port,  in  Rhode  Island,  under  the  command  of  Count 
Rochambeau,  the  condition  of  the  thirteen  revolted 
colonies  of  Great  Britain  was  found  by  their  new  allies 
to  be  worse  than  it  was  expected.  Washington  had 
just  written  to  Reed,  of  Pennsylvania:  "We  have 
never  experienced  a  like  extremity  at  any  period  of 
the  war."  The  winter  of  that  year  had  been  intensely 
rigorous.  It  had  brought  famine  to  the  camps  of  the 
revolutionary  soldiers.  "  For  a  fortnight  past,"  wrote 
their  illustrious  chief  on  the  8th  of  January,  "  the 
troops,  both  officers  and  men,  have  been  almost  per 
ishing  with  want."  The  Americans,  tried  by  a  multi 
tude  of  indescribable  sufferings,  were  learning  to  their 
sorrow  what  it  costs  to  indulge  in  the  luxury  of  revo 
lutions.  The  French,  not  long  after,  made  the  same 
experiment,  and  have  since  repeated  it  often,  although 
one  of  them  has  propounded  to  the  world  this  ques 
tion  :  "  Is  it  possible  for  anybody  to  be  again  cheer 
ful,  who  has  ever  witnessed  a  revolution  and  its  conse 
quences?"  He  might  find  an  answer  in  the  saying  of 
(42) 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


43 


one  of  his  compatriots,  who  asserts  "  that  a  revolu 
tion  always  demoralizes  everybody  without  instruct 
ing  any  one."  But,  whatever  be  the  effects  of  such 
political  convulsions,  the  Americans  had  to  meet  them 
in  the  best  way  they  could,  and  although  the  cold 
had  been  so  unusual  as  to  freeze  the  great  bay  of  New 
York,  yet  it  had  comparatively  very  little  to  do  with 
their  distress  and  difficulties.  The  main  cause  was, 
that  Congress  had  gone  to  war  without  adequate 
preparations  for  it — a  defect  which  it  had  never  been 
able  or  willing  to  remedy.  Congress,  under  the  articles 
of  the  confederation  which  bound  the  thirteen  States 
together,  was  the  most  effete  of  all  governments,  if  it 
deserved  at  all  the  name  of  government,  of  which  it 
had  not  the  most  essential  attribute — the  power  of 
levying  taxes.  That  power  remained  with  the  States 
in  their  respective  capacity.  Hence  it  follows  that  it 
had  not  that  which  is  the  breath — the  sustaining  ele 
ment  of  armies — money — since  patriotism  and  cour 
age  can  not  live  and  thrive  on  thin  air  alone.  Under 
the  pressure  of  absolute  and  irresistible  wants,  and 
gasping  for  relief,  it  had  yielded  to  the  temptation  of 
adopting  the  modern  contrivance  of  issuing  paper 
money,  and  the  natural  consequences  had  followed. 
The  new-fledged  States  which  were  struggling  for 
their  independence  from  Great  Britain,  and  which 
were  loth  to  subject  themselves  to  a  strong  central 
government,  although  it  should  be  of  their  own  crea 
tion,  imitated  the  fatal  example  of  the  shadowy  one 
which  they  had  set  up  as  their  head  and  leader,  and 
flooded  the  country  with  their  own  issues  of  paper 
money.  All  those  different  streams  mingled  after 
ward  into  one  which  was  called  "  continental  cur 
rency."  It  soon  became  of  no  value,  for  in  1780  it 


44 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


had  declined  to  such  a  degree  that  more  than  forty 
dollars  in  paper  were  hardly  equivalent  to  one  in  specie. 
To  correct  the  evil,  Congress  imagined  to  make  these 
rags  a  legal  tender,  at  the  nominal  value  of  the  cur 
rency,  in  discharge  of  debts  contracted  for  gold.  Thus 
a  national  sanction  was  given  to  knavery ;  bad  faith 
was  legalized,  and  patriots  were  invited  to  become 
pickpockets.  On  that  occasion,  as  on  every  other  of 
the  same  nature,  it  was  shown  that  good  never  can 
come  out  of  evil,  notwithstanding  the  common  saying 
to  the  contrary,  and  the  condition  of  the  country  be 
came  worse.  The  commissary  department  was  ren 
dered  incapable  of  getting  supplies,  and  Washington 
was  compelled  to  have  recourse  to  the  cruel  and  dan 
gerous  resource  of  impressing,  and  giving  drafts  which 
were  to  be  paid  on  a  future  and  uncertain  day.  Charles 
Lee,  the  second  in  command  to  Washington,  and  who 
had  been  very  near  superseding  him,  having  been 
made  prisoner,  had  turned  traitor,  and  had  voluntarily 
submitted  to  the  British  government,  for  the  subjuga 
tion  of  the  rebels,  a  plan  which,  if  it  had  been  follow 
ed,  might  have  been  attended  with  disastrous  conse 
quences.  Arnold,  one  of  the  most  distinguished  of 
the  American  generals,  was  reported  to  have  "an  itch 
ing  palm,"  and  by  many  was  suspected  of  dissatisfac 
tion,  particularly  after  his  marriage  in  Philadelphia 
with  a  lady  who  had  been  a  "  toast "  and  favorite 
among  the  British  officers.  Arnold  was  a  man  of 
luxurious  habits  and  excessive  extravagance,  and  his 
impatience  to  get  rich  amounted  almost  to  a  mono 
mania.  There  were  misgivings  and  whisperings  in  re 
lation  to  him,  as  he  was  known  to  be  getting  deeper 
and  deeper  into  debt — a  fatal  habit,  particularly  for 
a  public  man,  and  one  which  will  never  fail  to  sum- 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


45 


mon  to  the  elbow  of  the  future  victim  the  arch- 
tempter  with  his  fiendish  seductions. 

What  materially  impeded  military  operations  and 
produced  discontent  in  the  army  was,  that  the  busi 
ness  and  duty  of  supporting  that  body  devolved  on 
the  respective  States  and  not  on  Congress,  which 
could  only  make  requisitions.  Frequently  those 
requisitions  were  only  partially  attended  to,  if  not 
disregarded  altogether.  It  produced  great  inequality 
in  the  condition  of  the  troops,  according  to  the  means 
and  the  degree  of  liberality  evinced  by  the  States  to 
which  they  belonged.  Some  of  the  troops  were 
abundantly  supplied ;  others  were  ragged,  shoeless, 
and  starving ;  and  these  contrasts,  being  side  by  side, 
were  the  more  striking  and  effective.  Hence  mur 
murs,  envious  comparisons,  heart-burnings,  and  a 
tendency  to  seditious  combinations.  Even  feelings 
of  jealousy  were  entertained  in  Congress  of  the  com- 
mander-in-chief.  It  was  thought  that  his  influence 
was  already  too  great ;  that  even  his  virtues  afforded 
motives  for  alarm  ;  that  the  enthusiasm  of  the  army, 
joined  to  the  kind  of  dictatorship  already  confided  to 
him,  put  Congress  and  the  United  States  at  his  mer 
cy  ;  and  that  it  was  not  expedient  "  to  expose  a  man 
even  of  the  highest  virtue  to  such  temptations." 

To  make  matters  worse,  Arnold — who,  for  money, 
would  have  sold  himself  to  the  foul  fiend — was  look 
ing  all  round  for  a  purchaser.  He  went  to  the 
French  minister,  M.  de  la  Luzerne,*  and  expressed 
the  desire  to  borrow  from  him  a  sum  equal  to  the 
amount  of  his  debts;  "intimating  that  it  might  be 
to  the  interest  of  the  king  of  France  to  grant  the 


*  living's  "  Life  of  Washington." 


46  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

favor,  thereby  securing  the  attachment  and  gratitude 
of  an  American  general  of  his  rank  and  influence." 
It  was  not  necessary  to  be  a  very  acute  diplomatist 
to  understand  such  language.  M.  de  la  Luzerne,  be 
ing  a  high-spirited  man,  was  greatly  shocked.  He 
nobly  replied  :  "  When  the  envoy  of  a  foreign  power 
gives — or,  if  you  will,  lends  money,  it  is  ordinarily 
to  corrupt  those  who  receive  it,  and  to  make  them 
the  creatures  of  the  sovereign  whom  he  serves ;  or, 
rather,  he  corrupts  without  persuading.  He  buys 
and  does  not  secure.  But  the  league  entered  into 
between  the  king  and  the  United  States  is  the  work 
of  justice  and  of  the  wisest  policy.  It  has  for  its  ba 
sis  a  reciprocal  interest  and  good-will.  In  the  mis 
sion  with  which  I  am  charged,  my  true  glory  consists 
in  fulfilling  it  without  intrigue  or  cabal — without  re 
sorting  to  any  secret  practices,  and  by  the  force  alone 
of  the  conditions  of  the  alliance."  This  was  striking 
with  the  lance  of  Ithuriel  the  toad  crouching  in  the 
heart  of  the  traitor;  and,  with  a  view  to  dislodging 
the  reptile,  the  French  minister  complimented  Ar 
nold  on  his  past  career  of  glory,  and  expressed  the 
hope  that  he  would  gather  further  laurels.  But  this 
had  no  effect  on  the  sordid  soul  of  the  venal  soldier. 
What  he  wanted  was  money,  and  not  empty-handed 
compliments.  Arnold  had  probably  ceased  to  be 
lieve  in  the  success  of  the  cause  in  which  he  had 
enlisted,  and  was  perhaps  strengthened  in  that  belief 
by  the  discontent  which  he  knew  to  exist  in  the  ar 
my,  and  by  the  defection  of  several  of  the  Connecti 
cut  regiments.  So  dark  indeed  was  the  horizon  in 
1780,  that  Washington  himself  wrote  to  the  Execu 
tive  of  Pennsylvania :  "  Every  idea  you  can  form  of 
our  distress  will  fall  short  of  the  reality.  There  is 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  47 

such  a  combination  of  circumstances  to  exhaust  the 
patience  of  the  soldiery  that  it  begins  at  last  to  be 
worn  out,  and  we  see  in  every  line  of  the  army  feat 
ures  of  mutiny  and  sedition.  All  our  departments, 
all  our  operations  are  at  a  stand ;  and,  unless  a  sys 
tem  very  different  from  that  which  has  a  long  time 
prevailed  be  immediately  adopted  throughout  the, 
States,  our  affairs  must  soon  become  desperate  be 
yond  the  possibility  of  recovery." 

But  what  discouraged  Washington  more  than  any 
thing  else  was  the  lethargy  that  had  come  over  the 
public  mind.  The  spirit  with  which  the  Revolution 
had  begun  seemed  to  be  dead.  It  looked  as  if  the 
majority  of  the  people  were  sick  of  the  war  and  anx 
ious  to  resume  those  avocations  of  life  which  gave 
them  profit  and  comfort.  Patriotism  and  the  strug 
gle  for  independence  required  too  many  sacrifices. 
This  was  so  evident  that  Washington  gave  way  to  an 
unusual  fit  of  despair,  and  thus  expressed  himself  :  "  I 
have  almost  ceased  to  hope.  The  country  is  in  such 
a  state  of  insensibility  and  indifference  to  its  inter 
ests,  that  I  do  not  flatter  myself  with  any  change  for 
the  better."  And  again:  "The  present  juncture  is 
so  interesting,  that,  if  it  does  not  produce  correspond 
ent  exertions,  it  will  be  a  proof  that  motives  of  hon 
or,  public  good,  and  even  self-preservation  have  lost 
their  influence  over  our  minds.  This  is  a  decisive 
moment ;  one  of  the  most — I  will  go  further  and  say 
the  most  —  important  America  has  seen.  The  court 
of  France  has  made  a  glorious  effort  for  our  deliver 
ance,  and,  if  we  disappoint  its  intentions  by  our  su- 
pineness,  we  must  become  contemptible  in  the  eyes 
of  mankind ;  nor  can  we,  after  that,  venture  to  con 
fide  that  our  allies  will  persist  in  an  attempt  to  es- 


4g  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

tablish  what,  it  will  appear,  we  want  jiclination  or 
ability  to  assist  them  in." 

Congress  also  seemed  to  partake  of  the  general 
fainting  debility  which  pervaded  the  whole  confeder 
acy,  and  Washington  made  a  powerful  effort  to  rouse 
that  body  by  thus  addressing  one  of  its  influential 
members:  "Certain  I  am,"  he  said,  "unless  Congress 
speak  in  a  more  decisive  tone — unless  they  are  vested 
with  powers  by  the  several  States,  competent  to  the 
purposes  of  war,  or  assume  them  as  matters  of  right, 
and  they  and  the  States  respectively  act  with  more 
energy  than  they  have  hitherto  done,  that  our  cause 
is  lost.  We  can  no  longer  drudge  on  in  the  old  way. 
By  ill-timing  the  adoption  of  measures,  by  delays  in 
the  execution  of  them,  or  by  unwarrantable  jeal 
ousies,  we  incur  enormous  expenses  and  derive  no 
benefit  from  them.  One  State  will  comply  with  a 
requisition  of  Congress,  another  neglects  to  do  it,  a 
third  executes  it  by  halves,  and  all  differ  either  in  the 
manner,  the  matter,  or  so  much  in  point  of  time,  that 
we  are  always  working  up-hill ;  and,  while  such  a  sys 
tem  as  the  present  one — or  rather,  want  of  one — pre 
vails,  we  shall  ever  be  unable  to  apply  our  strength  or 
resources  to  any  advantage.  I  see  one  head  gradually 
changing  into  thirteen — I  see  one  army  branching 
into  thirteen,  which,  instead  of  looking  up  to  Con 
gress  as  the  supreme  controlling  power  of  the  United 
States,  are  considering  themselves  dependent  on  their 
respective  States.  In  a  word,  I  see  the  powers  of 
Congress  declining  too  fast  for  the  consideration  and 
respect  which  are  due  to  them  as  the  great  repre 
sentative  body  of  America,  and  I  am  fearful  of  the 
consequences." 

Such  was  the  desperate  condition  of  the  revolted 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


49 


colonies  of  Great  Britain  when  the  French  fleet  ar 
rived  at  Newport,  in  Rhode  Island,  on  the  loth  of 
July,  1780.  It  was  composed  of  seven  ships  of  the 
line,  two  frigates,  and  two  bombs,  convoying  trans 
ports  on  board  of  which  were  upward  of  five  thou 
sand  troops.  This  was  the  first  division  of  the  forces 
promised  by  France.  The  second  division  had  been 
detained  at  Brest  for  want  of  transports,  but  might 
soon  be  expected.  The  French  were  not  slow  in  dis 
covering  the  true  state  of  things,  and  concluded  that 
their  government  had  undertaken  a  hard  task  when 
assuming  to  secure  the  independence  of  the  thirteen 
rebellious  colonies.  Six  days  after  the  arrival  of  the 
fleet,  on  the  i6th  of  July,  Count  de  Rochambeau's 
first  dispatch  to  Vergennes,  one  of  the  members  of 
the  ministry,  was  couched  in  these  terms  :  "  Upon  my 
arrival  here  the  country  was  in  consternation,  the 
paper  money  had  fallen  to  sixty  for  one,  and  even  the 
government  takes  it  up  at  forty  for  one.  Washing 
ton  had  for  a  long  time  only  three  thousand  men 
under  his  command.  The  arrival  of  the  Marquis  de 
Lafayette  and  the  announcement  of  succor  from 
France,  afforded  some  encouragement ;  but  the  Tories, 
who  are  very  numerous,  gave  out  that  it  was  only  a 
temporary  assistance,  like  that  of  Count  D'Estaing. 
In  describing  to  you  our  reception  at  this  place,  we 
shall  show  you  the  feeling  of  all  the  inhabitants  of 
the  continent.  This  town  is  of  considerable  size,  and 
contains,  like  the  rest,  both  Whigs  and  Tories.  I 
landed  with  my  staff  without  troops  ;  nobody  appear 
ed  on  the  streets;  those  at  the  windows  looked  sad 
and  depressed.  I  spoke  to  the  principal  persons  of 
the  place,  and  told  them,  as  I  wrote  to  General 
Washington,  that  this  was  merely  the  advanced  guard 
3 


50  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

of  a  greater  force,  and  that  the  king  was  determined 
to  support  them  with  his  whole  power.  In  twenty- 
four  hours  their  spirits  rose,  and  last  night  all  the 
streets,  houses,  and  steeples  were  illuminated,  in  the 
midst  of  fireworks  and  the  greatest  rejoicings.  I  am 
now  here  with  a  single  company  of  grenadiers,  until 
wood  and  straw  will  have  been  collected ;  my  camp 
is  marked  out,  and  I  hope  to  have  the  troops  landed 
to-morrow." 

Notwithstanding  this  illumination  and  rejoicing, 
Rochambeau  was  too  far-sighted  not  to  discover  that 
the  public  joy  was  somewhat  hollow  like  a  rotten 
tree,  and  that  there  was  a  lingering  feeling  of  disap 
pointment  at  the  bottom  of  the  heart  of  the  popula 
tion  who  appeared  to  welcome  him.  The  shrewd 
Rhode  Islanders  calculated  that  the  French  troops 
were  not  sufficiently  numerous  to  make  success  a  fixed 
fact,  and  the  possibility  of  failure  damped  the  ardor 
of  the  patriotic  satisfaction  which,  otherwise,  they 
would  have  exhibited  to  exuberance.  "  The  Whigs," 
wrote  Rochambeau,  "  are  pleased,  but  they  say  that 
the  king  ought  to  have  sent  twenty  thousand  men 
and  twenty  ships,  to  drive  the  enemy  from  New  York  ; 
that  the  country  is  infallibly  ruined ;  that  it  is  impos 
sible  to  find  a  recruit  to  send  to  General  Washington's 
army,  without  giving  him  one  hundred  hard  dollars  to 
engage  for  six  months'  service,  and  they  beseech  his 
majesty  to  assist  them  with  all  his  strength.  The 
war  will  be  an  expensive  one ;  we  pay  even  for  our 
quarters,  and  for  the  land  covered  with  the  camp." 

If  the  French  were  made  to  pay  rent  for  the  very 
ground  on  which  they  encamped,  in  consequence  of 
the  extraordinary  degree  of  acquisitiveness  character 
izing  those  whom  they  had  come  to  assist,  they  showed 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  5  j 

great  taste  and  judgment  in  the  selection  of  the  site 
of  that  camp.  It  was  to  the  east  of  the  town,*  and 
extended  nearly  across  that  small  island  over  pictur 
esque  hills  and  dales.  The  gallant  and  martial  ap 
pearance  of  those  troops  excited  much  admiration, 
and  it  was  acknowledged  that  their  officers,  by  their 
refinement  and  elegance  of  tone  and  manner,  were  a 
splendid  specimen  of  that  old  French  nobility  who 
had,  during  so  many  centuries,  filled  the  world  with 
the  fame  of  their  exploits.  They  bore  resplendent 
historical  names,  and  they  were  not  unworthy  of  that 
advantage.  Many  had  come  to  this  new  field  of 
achievement,  moved  by  a  feeling  of  adventure  and 
romance.  "  They  had  brought  out  with  them,"  said 
Rochambeau,  their  commander,  "  the  heroic  and 
chivalrous  courage  of  the  ancient  French  nobility  '' 
Among  them  was  a  duke  de  Lauzun,  as  brilliant  as 
his  famous  ancestor  who  had  saved  the  wife  of  James 
the  Second  and  the  infant  Prince  of  Wales  from  the 
grasp  of  a  revolutionary  usurper.  What  a  contrast, 
however,  between  the  actions  of  the  two — between 
the  Lauzun  of  the  age  of  Louis  XIV.  and  the  Lauzun 
of  the  age  of  Louis  XVI. — the  one,  carrying  away  in 
his  arms,  at  the  dead  hour  of  night  and  in  a  piti 
less  storm,  the  royalty  of  England  fleeing  from  re 
bellion — and  the  other,  drawing  the  sword  of  hered 
itary  chivalry  to  sever  the  bonds  of  that  loyalty  which 
binds  subjects  to  their  sovereign !  Very  little,  how 
ever,  did  the  French  nobility  thus  assembled  at  New 
port  think  of  the  political  consequences  of  their  adven 
ture  and  romance.  They  danced,  laughed,  flirted,  won 
hearts,  amused  themselves  and  others,  notwithstand- 


*  Irving's  "  Life  of  Washington." 


rj  2  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

ing  great  privations,  spent  with  a  prodigal  hand  the 
contents  of  fat  purses,  and  became,  therefore,  very 
popular  with  the  puritan  descendants  of  the  fol 
lowers  of  Cromwell,  and  of  William,  the  Dutch  re 
storer  of  the  liberties  of  England.  The  Rhode 
Islanders  were  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight,  for  they  sold 
prodigiously  high  what  they  had  to  sell  and  made 
money  by  the  bushel.  As  to  the  women,  they  were 
all  in  love  with  the  gay  companions  who  seemed  to 
have  no  other  object  in  life  than  to  please  their  sex, 
and  take  their  hearts  by  storm,  or  regular  siege.  In 
fact,  Newport  had  become  a  miniature  Versailles, 
where,  in  spite  of  pinching  circumstances,  prevailed 
the  ease,  frivolity,  and  seduction  of  court  manners, 
not  unfrequently  set  off  by  an  awkward  imitation 
that  provoked  ridicule  and  mirth.  During  continuous 
revelries  which  kept  Newport  in  a  blaze  of  gleesome 
excitement,  there  were  hardly  any,  among  those 
scions  of  the  noblest  houses  of  France,  who  reflected 
on  the  antagonism  of  the  two  flags  that  flaunted  in 
the  breeze  on  the  shores  of  Rhode  Island,  and  were 
entwined  together  on  all  occasions  of  festivity — the 
one,  emblematically  maintaining  that  distinctions  of 
rank,  rights,  and  position  were  the  only  true  and  solid 
basis  of  society — and  the  other,  proclaiming  that  all 
men  are  born  free  and  equal.  Most  of  those  gaudy- 
feathered  and  belaced  gentlemen  of  France  had  come 
to  America  to  gain  fame,  few  to  establish  a  principle. 
The  few  succeeded,  however ;  the  principle  triumphed, 
and  became  a  dogma  called  the  sovereignty  of  the 
people.  The  dogma  matured  into  an  article  of  faith, 
which  was  imported  into  France,  where  it  found  a 
congenial  soil  for  its  growth.  It  soon  proscribed  all 
social  distinctions,  razed  to  the  ground  the  castellated 


A  UBERT  DUB  A  YET. 


53 


dwellings  of  its  imprudent  and  self-sacrificing  advo 
cates,  and  brought  to  the  block  the  anointed  head  of 
the  heir  of  a  hundred  kings,  whilst  it  destroyed  for 
ever,  to  their  very  foundations,  hoary  and  honored 
institutions  that  had  defied  the  hand  of  time  during 
fifteen  centuries. 


CHAPTER    IV. 

GLOOMY  VIEWS  AND  FEELINGS  OF  WASHINGTON 
DURING  THE  WAR  OF  INDEPENDENCE  —  HIS 
APPEAL  TO  FRANCE. 

AMONG  that  gay  crowd  of  officers,  careless  of  the 
future,  but  mindful  of  the  enjoyments  of  the  present, 
Dubayet  had  remained  abstracted  and  gloomy,  equal 
ly  indifferent  to  the  love  of  fame  and  to  the  pursuit 
of  pleasure.  His  participating  in  their  sports  was 
but  apparent,  and  merely  to  avoid  eliciting  unpleasant 
comments  on  the  singularity  of  his  abstention.  He 
did  not  wish  to  expose  the  secret  condition  of  his 
heart.  He  sympathized  not  with  the  cause  of  Ameri 
can  independence,  nor  with  anything  else.  In  the 
spring  of  life  he  had  withered  under  the  touch  of 
sorrow.  A  terrible  blow  had  deadened  the  tree  too 
soon,  with  all  the  freshness  and  honors  of  its  early 
foliage.  Although  young  in  years  he  was  old  in  feel 
ing.  There  are  some  souls  to  which  grief  clings  te 
naciously;  it  is  the  ivy  of  the  dilapidated  wall.  For 
such  organizations  time  and  action  are  the  only  phy 
sicians.  He  was,  therefore,  a  cold  and  unconcerned 
spectator,  and  being  of  a  reflecting  and  inquiring  turn 
of  mind,  he  earnestly  sought  for  that  kind  of  infor 
mation  which  might  lead  to  healthy  action,  in  the 
hope  of  its  ending  in  being  a  relief  to  his  painful 
thoughts.  What  he  saw,  heard,  and  read  was  of  such 
a  nature  that,  in  a  letter  he  addressed  to  his  friend 

(54) 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  55 

Lakanal,  whom  he  knew  to  be  intensely  interested  in 
any  struggle  of  republicanism  against  monarchy,  he 
took  the  most  discouraging  view  of  American  affairs, 
and  it  is  not  astonishing  that  he  came  to  such  con 
clusions,  for  they  were  warranted  by  the  following 
circumstances : 

At  the  time  when  Congress  was  refusing  to  reor 
ganize  effectively  the  department  of  the  quartermas 
ter-general,  Washington  was  thus  exposing  its  de 
rangement  :  "  I  am  reduced  to  the  painful  alternative, 
either  of  dismissing  a  part  of  the  militia  now  as 
sembling,  or  of  letting  them  come  forward  to  starve  ; 
which  it  will  be  extremely  difficult  for  the  troops  al 
ready  in  the  field  to  avoid.  Every  day's  experience 
proves  more  and  more  that  the  present  mode  of  sup 
plies  is  the  most  uncertain,  expensive,  and  injurious 
that  could  be  devised.  It  is  impossible  for  us  to  form 
any  calculations  of  what  we  are  to  expect,  and  con 
sequently  to  concert  any  plan  for  future  execution. 
No  adequate  provision  for  forage  having  been  made, 
we  are  obliged  to  subsist  the  horses  of  the  army  by 
force,  which,  among  other  evils,  often  gives  rise  to 
civil  disputes  and  to  prosecutions,  as  vexatious  as 
they  are  burdensome  to  the  public."  In  that  press 
ing  emergency  he  was  compelled  to  consume  all  the 
provisions  which  had  been  concentrated  at  West 
Point ;  but  this  afforded  only  a  temporary  relief,  and, 
on  the  6th  of  September,  1780,  Washington  com 
plained  that  his  army  had  been  entirely  destitute  of 
meat  for  three  days.  In  such  circumstances  armies 
never  fail  to  plunder  even  those  whom  they  are  called 
upon  to  defend  and  protect.  "  Such  injury,"  wrote 
Washington,  "  to  the  discipline  of  the  army  and  such 
distress  to  the  inhabitants  result  from  these  frequent 


56  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

events,  that  my  feelings  are  hurt  beyond  description 
at  the  cries  of  the  one,  and  seeing  the  other."  Such 
was  the  condition  of  things  in  the  Northern  States. 
It  was  sad  enough,  but  it  was  made  still  more  sad  by 
events  that  had  occurred  in  the  South.  On  the  i6th 
of  August,  General  Gates,  the  conqueror  of  Burgoyne 
at  Saratoga,  had  been  crushed  by  Lord  Cornwallis  at 
Camden,  in  North  Carolina,  and  the  brave  Baron  de 
Kalb  mortally  wounded,  whilst  fighting  with  brilliant 
valor  at  the  head  of  the  Second  Maryland  brigade. 
On  the  next  day,  Sumter,  surnamed  the  "game  cock," 
had  been  surprised  at  the  Catawba  ford  by  the  cav 
alry  of  Tarleton,  and,  after  having  been  completely 
routed,  losing  between  three  and  four  hundred  men, 
killed  or  wounded,  all  his  arms  and  baggage,  with  two 
brass  field-pieces,  had  galloped  off,  it  is  said,  without 
saddle,  hat,  or  coat. 

On  hearing  of  these  disasters,  General  Washington 
ordered  southward  some  regular  troops  enlisted  in 
Maryland  for  the  war.  On  the  I2th  of  September, 
1780,  he  wrote  to  Governor  Rutledge,  of  South  Caro 
lina,  "  to  raise  a  permanent,  compact,  well-organized 
body  of  troops,  instead  of  depending  upon  an  irregu 
lar  army  of  effete  militia,  always  inconceivably  expen 
sive  and  too  fluctuating  and  undisciplined  to  oppose 
a  regular  force."  Three  days  after,  on  the  I5th  of 
the  same  month,  he  sent  to  the  President  of  Congress 
a  still  more  urgent  and  explicit  address :  "  Regular 
troops  alone,"  he  said,  "  are  equal  to  the  exigencies  of 
modern  warfare,  as  well  for  defense  as  offense,  and 
whenever  a  substitute  is  attempted,  it  must  prove 
illusory  and  ruinous.  No  militia  will  ever  acquire  the 
habits  necessary  to  resist  a  regular  force.  The  firm 
ness  requisite  for  the  real  business  of  fighting  is  only 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


57 


to  be  attained  by  a  constant  course  of  discipline  and 
service.  I  have  never  yet  been  witness  to  a  single 
instance  that  can  justify  a  different  opinion,  and  it  is 
most  earnestly  to  be  wished  that  the  liberties  of  Amer 
ica  may  no  longer  be  trusted,  in  any  material  degree, 
to  so  precarious  a  dependence.  In  my  idea  of  the 
true  system  of  war  at  the  southward,  the  object  ought 
to  be  to  have  a  good  army  rather  than  a  large  one. 
Every  exertion  should  be  made  by  North  Carolina, 
Virginia,  Maryland,  and  Delaware  to  raise  a  perma 
nent  force  of  six  thousand  men,  exclusive  of  horse  and 
artillery.  These,  with  the  occasional  aid  of  the  mi 
litia  in  the  vicinity  of  the  scene  of  action,  will  not  only 
suffice  to  prevent  the  further  progress  of  the  enemy, 
but,  if  properly  supplied,  oblige  them  to  compact 
their  force  and  relinquish  a  part  of  what  they  now 
hold.  To  expel  them  from  the  country  entirely  is 
what  we  can  not  aim  at,  till  we  derive  more  effectual 
support  from  abroad  ;  and  by  attempting  too  much, 
instead  of  going  forward  we  shall  go  backward.  Could 
such  a  force  be  once  set  on  foot,  it  would  immedi 
ately  make  an  inconceivable  change  in  the  face  of 
affairs,  not  only  in  opposition  to  the  enemy,  but  in 
expense,  consumption  of  provisions,  and  waste  of 
arms  and  stores.  No  magazines  can  be  equal  to  the 
demands  of  an  army  of  militia,  and  none  need  econ 
omy  wore  than  ours." 

Washington  was  right.  Nothing  can  be  more  in 
efficient  and  unavailable  in  the  field  than  militia 
against  regulars,  and  no  magazines  can  be  equal  to 
the  demands  of  an  army  of  militia,  particularly  Amer 
ican  militia,  who,  from  their  innate  independence 
of  spirit  and  the  habits  contracted  in  private  life, 
are  the  most  extravagantly  wasteful  of  all  armed 
3* 


58  A  UBERT  DUBA  YET. 

bodies,  and  constitute  the  most  all-consuming,  all-de 
vouring  one  which  ever  was  known  to  exist.  But 
regulars  are  not  improvised  ;  it  takes  years  and  the 
schooling  of  more  than  one  campaign  to  form  a  good 
army,  with  the  soul  which  ought  to  animate  it,  and 
that  confidence  which  springs  from  traditions  of  glory, 
from  discipline,  gladiatorial  skill,  the  proud  recollec 
tion  of  past  achievements,  the  consciousness  of  being 
able  to  surpass  them,  and  of  knowing  how  to  use  in 
telligently  those  materials  and  military  appendages 
with  which  it  can  not  dispense  without  impairing  its 
strength.  At  the  time  when  Washington  expressed 
the  sentiments  that  I  have  quoted,  the  forces  which 
he  had  under  his  command,  and  which  could  have 
any  pretensions  to  be  called  an  army,  had  dwindled 
into  what  would  hardly  have  constituted  a  brigade  in 
Europe,  and  those  forces  were  starving,  discontented, 
and  unequal  to  the  task  they  had  on  hand.  Hence 
the  humiliating  confession  extorted  from  him,  and 
which  must  have  been  so  painful  to  his  patriotic 
heart,  that,  "  without  a  sufficient  force  from  abroad," 
success  was  impossible.  Such  were  the  feelings,  the 
views,  and  the  apprehensions  of  the  great  leader  of 
the  American  revolution,  when,  in  the  latter  part  of 
September,  1780,  there  came  upon  him,  like  a  clap  of 
thunder,  the  news  of  the  treason  and  flight  of  Arnold, 
to  whom  West  Point,  one  of  the  most  strategic  points 
for  the  Americans,  had  been  confided.  Well  can  we 
conceive  the  bitter  agony  with  which  he  exclaimed, 
when  putting  the  proofs  of  that  crime  into  the  hands 
of  Knox  and  Lafayette  :  "  Whom  can  we  trust  now  ?  " 
It  sounded  like  the  dying  exclamation  of  Brutus:  "  O 
virtue,  thou  art  but  a  name!  " 

In  these  conjunctures  of  extreme  distress,  General 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  $g 

Greene,  who  possessed  the  friendship  and  confidence 
of  Washington,  was  appropriately  appointed  to  the 
command  of  the  Southern  department.  At  the  end 
of  November  the  army  of  the  North  had  gone  into 
winter  quarters  ;  the  Pennsylvania  line  in  the  neigh 
borhood  of  Morristown,  the  Jersey  line  about  Pomp- 
ton,  the  New  England  troops  at  West  Point  and  the 
other  posts  of  the  highlands.  The  New  York-  line  was 
stationed  at  Albany,  to  guard  against  any  invasion 
from  Canada.  The  French  army  remained  stationed 
at  Newport,  excepting  the  Duke  de  Lauzun's  legion, 
which  was  cantoned  at  Lebanon,  in  Connecticut. 
Washington's  headquarters  were  established  at  New 
Windsor,  on  the  Hudson.  The  commander-in-chief 
himself  was  weary  of  struggling  on  with  such  scanty 
means  and  such  vast  responsibilities.  Commenting 
on  the  campaign  which  had  just  terminated,  Wash 
ington  wrote  to  General  Sullivan :  "  We  have  been 
half  our  time  without  provisions  and  are  likely  to 
continue  so.  We  have  no  magazines,  no  money  to 
form  them  ;  and,  in  a  little  time,  we  shall  have  no  men, 
if  we  have  no  money  to  pay  them.  In  a  word,  the 
history  of  the  war  is  a  history  of  false  hopes  and  tem 
porary  devices,  instead  of  system  and  economy.  To 
suppose  that  this  great  revolution  can  be  accomplished 
by  a  temporary  army,  that  this  army  will  be  subsisted 
by  State  supplies,  and  that  taxation  alone  is  adequate 
to  our  wants,  is  in  my  opinion  absurd,  and  as  unrea 
sonable  as  to  expect  an  inversion  in  the  order  of  nat 
ure  to  accommodate  itself  to  our  views." 

At  the  South,  notwithstanding  the  advantages 
obtained  by  Colonel  Campbell  at  King's  Mountain, 
Sumter  at  Black  Stock  Hill  on  the  Tiger  river, 
Colonel  Washington  at  Clermont,  and  the  incessant 


60  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

attacks  of  Marion,  "  the  swamp  fox,"  the  situation  of 
affairs  was  not  encouraging.  General  Greene,  on  tak 
ing  command  of  his  department,  found  only  a  small, 
disorganized  army,  the  one-half  of  which  was  militia, 
who  had  neither  tents  nor  equipage,  who  were  badly 
clothed  and  fed,  and  who  had  fallen  into  the  habit  of 
relieving  their  necessities  by  depredating  upon  their 
own  countrymen.  "The  country  is  so  extensive," 
wrote  Greene  to  Washington,  "and  the  powers  of 
the  government  so  weak,  that  every  one  does  as  he 
pleases.  The  inhabitants  are  much  divided  in  their 
political  sentiments,  and  the  Whigs  and  Tories  pursue 
each  other  with  little  less  than  savage  fury.  The  back 
country  people  are  bold  and  daring ;  but  the  people 
on  the  sea-shore  are  sickly  and  but  indifferent  militia. 
All  the  middle  country  is  so  disaffected  that  you  can 
not  lay  in  the  most  trifling  magazine,  or  send  a  wagon 
through  the  country  with  the  least  articles  of  stores 
without  a  guard." 

In  the  meantime,  the  campaign  having  ceased  at 
the  North,  the  commander  of  the  British  forces  in 
New  York  was  preparing  to  send  to  Cornwallis  in  the 
South  all  the  reinforcements  he  could  dispose  of,  "  in 
order,"  as  he  said,  "  to  strike  a  blow  that  would  make 
the  whole  continent  shake."  As  Washington  beheld 
one  hostile  armament*  after  another  winging  its  way 
to  the  South,  and  received  applications  from  that 
quarter  for  assistance  which  he  had  not  the  means  to 
furnish,  it  became  painfully  apparent  to  him,  that  the 
efforts  to  carry  on  the  war  had  exceeded  the  natural 
capabilities  of  the  country.  Its  widely  diffused  popu 
lation  and  the  composition  and  temper  of  some  of  its 


*  Irving's  "  History  of  Washington,"  p.  193,  vol.  iv. 


A  UBER T  D USA  YET.  6l 

people  rendered  it  difficult  to  draw  together  some  of 
its  resources.  Commerce  was  almost  extinct ;  there 
was  not  sufficient  natural  wealth  on  which  to  found  a 
revenue;  paper  currency  had  depreciated  through 
want  of  funds  for  its  redemption,  until  it  was  nearly 
valueless.  The  mode  of  supplying  the  army  by  assess 
ing  a  proportion  of  the  productions  of  the  earth  had 
proved  ineffectual,  oppressive,  and  productive  of  an 
alarming  opposition.  Domestic  loans  yielded  but  tri 
fling  assistance.  The  patience  of  the  army  was  almost 
exhausted  ;  the  people  were  dissatisfied  with  the  mode 
of  supporting  the  war,  and  there  was  reason  to  ap 
prehend  that,  under  the  pressure  of  impositions  of  a 
new  and  odious  nature,  they  might  imagine  they  had 
only  exchanged  one  kind  of  tyranny  for  another. 
Hence,  Washington  urged  upon  Congress  "  that  for 
eign  aid  in  money  and  soldiers  were  indispensably 
necessary  to  a  continuance  of  the  war."  That  indis 
pensable  foreign  aid  had  already  been  given  by  France, 
although  not  to  the  extent  desired,  and  also  by  Spain, 
who  had  declared  war  against  Great  Britain,  and  had, 
in  the  West  Indies  and  in  the  Southern  part  of  the 
continent,  produced  a  favorable  diversion  in  favor  of 
the  Americans,  for  she  had  attacked  and  taken  the 
possessions  of  that  power  in  Florida  and  Louisiana, 
under  the  leadership  of  the  gallant  Galvez.  But  more 
was  wanted  to  accomplish  the  independence  of  the 
revolted  colonies. 

The  anxieties  of  Washington  were  greatly  increased 
by  the  mutinous  conduct  of  the  Pennsylvania  line 
hutted  at  Morristown,  who  marched  on  Philadelphia 
to  obtain  from  Congress  a  redress  of  the  wrongs  of 
which  they  complained,  and  with  whom  it  was  found 
necessary  to  enter  into  a  compromise,  which  threat- 


62  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

ened  to  destroy  the  discipline  of  the  rest  of  the  army. 
He  was  also  much  troubled  by  the  failure  of  the  com 
bined  American  and  French  forces  against  Portsmouth, 
where  it  was  hoped  to  capture  the  traitor  Arnold. 
His  disappointment  and  apprehensions  are  fully  ex 
pressed  in  a  letter  to  Laurens,  the  American  minister 
at  Paris,  who  had  been  lately  sent  there  on  a  special 
mission,  to  obtain  that  assistance  without  which  the 
boasted  Declaration  of  Independence  issued  by  the 
colonies  was  evidently  destined  to  be  a  lamentable 
abortion.  "  The  failure  of  this  expedition,"  said 
Washington,  "  which  was  most  flattering  in  the  com 
mencement,  is  much  to  be  regretted,  because  a  suc 
cessful  blow  in  that  quarter  would,  in  all  probability, 
have  given  a  decisive  turn  to  our  affairs  in  all  the 
Southern  States ;  because  it  has  been  attended  with 
considerable  expense  on  our  part  and  much  incon 
venience  to  the  State  of  Virginia  by  the  assembling 
of  our  militia ;  because  the  world  is  disappointed  in 
not  seeing  Arnold  in  gibbets ;  and  above  all,  because 
we  stood  in  need  of  something  to  keep  us  afloat  till 
the  result  of  your  mission  is  known  ;  for  be  assured, 
my  dear  Laurens,  day  does  not  follow  night  more  cer 
tainly  than  it  brings  with  it  some  additional  proof  of 
the  impracticability  of  carrying  on  the  war  without 
the  aids  you  were  directed  to  solicit.  As  an  honest 
and  candid  man,  as  a  man  whose  all  depends  on  the 
final  and  happy  termination  of  the  present  contest,  I 
assert  this,  while  I  give  it  decisively  as  my  opinion, 
that,  without  a  foreign  loan,  our  present  force,  which 
is  but  the  remnant  of  an  army,  can  not  be  kept  to- 
gether  this  campaign,  much  less  will  it  be  increased 
and  in  readiness  for  another.  If  France  delays  a 
timely  and  powerful  aid  in  the  critical  posture  of  our 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  63 

affairs,  it  will  avail  us  nothing  should  she  attempt  it 
hereafter.  We  are  at  this  hour  suspended  in  the 
balance,  not  from  choice,  but  from  hard  and  absolute 
necessity ;  and  you  may  rely  on  it  as  a  fact,  that  we 
can  not  transfer  the  provisions  from  the  States  in 
which  they  are  assessed,  to  the  army,  because  we  can 
not  pay  the  teamsters,  who  will  no  longer  work  for 

certificates In  a  word,  we  are  at  the  end  of  our 

tether,  and  now  or  never  our  deliverance  must  come." 


CHAPTER  V. 

TIMELY  AID  OF  FRANCE — SIEGE  AND  SURRENDER 
OF  YORKTOWN — AUBERT  DUBAYET  IS  MADE 
CAPTAIN. 

SUCH  was  the  imbecility  with  which  the  conduct 
of  the  war  was  managed  by  Congress,  in  spite  of  the 
good  advice  and  suggestions  repeatedly  laid  before 
them  by  Washington,  that,  although  they  had  grand 
ly  "  resolved  "  to  have  in  the  field,  in  the  beginning 
of  1781,  thirty-seven  thousand  men  under  arms, 
Washington's  whole  force  on  the  Hudson  in  the 
month  of  May  of  that  year  did  not  reach  seven  thou 
sand  men,  and  of  that  number  only  four  thousand 
were  effective.  Congress  was  fond  of  adopting  "  re 
solves  after  resolves,"  grandiloquently  significant  of 
its  intention  of  doing  wonders,  but  those  "resolves" 
were  mere  bags  of  wind,  and  Washington  and  the 
country  wanted  something  more.  Fortunately  at 
this  juncture,  a  French  frigate  arrived  at  Boston  with 
the  cheerful  intelligence  that  an  additional  armament 
of  twenty  ships  of  the  line  with  land  forces  had  sailed 
from  France  under  the  Count  de  Grasse  for  the  West 
Indies,  and  that  twelve  of  those  ships  were  to  relieve 
the  squadron  at  Newport.  After  consulting  with 
Rochambeau,  Washington  determined  to  make  a  di 
version  and  to  transport  the  seat  of  war  to  the 
South,  where  Greene  had  manoeuvred  with  great 
ability,  and  where  the  horizon  had  become  some- 
(64) 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  65 

what  brighter;  for  that  general  had  succeeded,  after 
many  trying  vicissitudes,  in  regaining  the  greater 
part  of  Georgia  and  the  two  Carolinas,  and  needed 
only  a  little  assistance  from  the  North  to  complete 
their  recovery.  If  the  British,  thought  Washington, 
could  be  entirely  expelled  from  the  South,  the  effect 
of  the  blow  would  be  to  crush  them  at  the  North. 
In  pursuance  of  the  plan  he  had  come  to,  he  arrived 
at  Philadelphia  on  the  3Oth  of  August,  1781,  but  he 
found  a  considerable  difficulty  on  the  very  threshold 
of  his  intended  expedition.  The  Northern  regi 
ments  were  discontented  at  the  idea  of  going  South, 
and  Washington  thought  that  a  douceur*  of  a  "  little 
hard  money  would  put  them  in  a  proper  temper." 
It  was  not  easy,  however,  to  procure  that  "  little 
hard  money."  Fortunately,  Rochambeau  accommo 
dated  him  with  a  loan  of  twenty  thousand  dollars, 
and  a  few  days  after,  Colonel  Laurens,  returning  from 
his  mission  to  France,  brought  with  him  two  and  a 
half  millions  of  livres,  being  part  of  a  subsidy  of  six 
millions  of  livres  granted  by  the  king.  It  was  like 
water  to  the  lips  of  dying  travelers  in  the  parched 
deserts  of  Arabia.  It  revived  expiring  patriotism 
and  stirred  even  despair  into  hopeful  action. 

On  the  2d  of  September  the  American  troops 
passed  through  Philadelphia,  followed  on  the  next 
day  by  the  French,  on  their  way  to  the  South.  On 
the  5th,  three  miles  below  Chester,  Washington 
learned  that  Count  de  Grasse  had  entered  the  Chesa 
peake  with  twenty-eight  ships  of  the  line  and  landed 
three  thousand  troops  under  the  Marquis  de  St.  Si 
mon,  who  was  reported  to  have  opened  a  communi- 


*  Irving's  "  Life  of  Washington,"  p.  315,  vol.  iv. 


66  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

cation  with  Lafayette  at  Williamsburg,  then  acting 
against  Cornwallis  in  Virginia.  The  British  general 
found  it  too  late  to  evacuate  Yorktown,  where  he 
had  been  resting  in  fancied  security.  York  river  and 
James  river  were  blocked  up  by  French  ships,  and  on 
land,  Lafayette,  Wayne,  and  St.  Simon  at  Williams- 
burg  prevented  his  hoping  to  retreat  successfully  in 
that  direction,  for  he  had  reconnoitered  that  post  and 
found  it  too  strong  to  be  forced.  He  was  caught  in 
a  trap,  and  all  that  he  had  to  do  was  to  strengthen 
his  works  and  defend  himself  until  he  could  be  re 
lieved.  On  the  I4th  of  September,  Washington  ar 
rived  at  Williamsburg,  and,  by  the  25th,  most  of  the 
American  and  French  troops  having  reached  that 
place,  preparations  were  made  for  an  attack.  The 
town  is  situated  on  a  peninsula  on  the  south  side  of 
York  river,  immediately  opposite  Gloucester  Point, 
and  was  fortified  by  seven  redoubts  and  six  batteries 
on  the  land  side  connected  by  intrenchments,  with  a 
line  of  batteries  along  the  river.  Besides,  the  town  * 
was  flanked  on  each  side  by  deep  ravines  and  creeks 
emptying  into  York  river — their  heads  in  front  of  the 
town  being  not  more  than  half  a  mile  apart.  Corn 
wallis  had  availed  himself  of  these  natural  advantages 
in  the  arrangement  of  extensive  outworks,  with  re 
doubts  strengthened  by  abatis,  field-works  mounted 
with  cannon,  and  trees  cut  down  and  left  with  the 
branches  pointed  outward.  This  was  a  strong  posi 
tion,  and  it  was  occupied  by  more  than  seven  thou 
sand  troops.  The  forces  of  the  besiegers  consisted  of 
sixteen  thousand  men,  of  whom  7,000  were  French, 
5,500  Continental,  and  3,500  militia.  Gloucester 


*  Irving's  "  Life  of  Washington,"  p.  327,  vol.  iv. 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  6/ 

Point  had  likewise  been  fortified  by  Cornwallis — its 
batteries,  with  those  of  Yorktown,  commanding  the 
intervening  river,  in  which  British  ships  were  also 
stationed,  protected  by  the  guns  of  the  forts;  and  the 
channel  was  obstructed  by  sunken' vessels. 

On  the  night  which  followed  the  arrival  of  the  com- 
bined  forces  before  Yorktown,  Washington  bivou 
acked  on  the  ground  in  the  open  air.  He  slept  un 
der  a  mulberry  tree,  a  projecting  root  of  which  served 
for  a  pillow.  Mounting  guard  near  him  were  a  few 
men  taken  from  the  American  and  French  troops, 
the  honor  being  thus  divided.  The  French  squad 
was  commanded  by  Lieutenant  Aubert  Dubayet. 
The  moon  was  full  and  brilliant,  and  its  rays,  passing 
through  the  foliage  of  the  tree,  would  occasionally  il 
lumine,  as  with  a  halo  of  glory,  the  majestic  face  of 
the  slumbering  hero.  The  scene  acted  vividly  on  the 
imagination  of  Aubert  Dubayet,  and,  whenever  he 
spoke  of  it  afterward,  he  mentioned  it  as  having  been 
more  impressive  than  any  one  of  those  which  he  sub 
sequently  saw  in  his  eventful  life. 

On  that  very  night,  Cornwallis,  as  if  blinded,  or  in 
timidated,  instead  of  determining  to  dispute  inch  by 
inch  the  approaches  of  the  enemy  through  the  posi 
tion  which  he  occupied,  and  which  had  been  made 
strong  by  nature  and  art,  inexplicably  abandoned  his 
outworks  and  cooped  himself  up  within  the  town, 
notwithstanding  the  remonstrances  of  Colonel  Tarle- 
ton,  who  earnestly  dwelt  on  the  advantages  which  he 
was  throwing  away.  At  daybreak,  the  American  and 
French  troops  were  not  slow  in  availing  themselves 
of  the  fault  committed  by  the  British  commander. 
They  seized  upon  the  outworks  thus  abandoned  and 
used  them  to  cover  the  troops  employed  in  throwing 


68  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

up  breastworks.  On  the  1st  of  October,  the  invest 
ment  of  Yorktown  by  land  and  by  sea  was  complete, 
and,  on  the  gth,  Washington  put  the  match  to  the 
first  gun  which  was  fired  against  the  town,  after  the 
final  establishment  of  the  first  parallel.  At  one  time, 
when  he  was  superintending  the  works,  a  cannon  shot 
from  the  enemy  struck  the  ground  close  by  him, 
throwing  up  a  cloud  of  dust.  A  chaplain  in  the  ar 
my,  named  Evans,  was  standing  by  the  general  and 
was  greatly  agitated  by  the  incident.  In  his  alarm 
he  took  off  his  hat,  and  showing  it  covered  with  sand, 
he  exclaimed  in  a  tremulous  voice:  "See  here,  gen 
eral,  see!"  Washington  slightly  bowed  to  him,  and 
said  with  gravity,  although  with  a  twinkle  of  humor 
in  his  eye :  "  Mr.  Evans,  you  had  better  carry  that 
home  and  show  it  to  your  wife  and  children."  The 
cannonade  was  kept  up  almost  incessantly  between 
the  besieged  and  the  besiegers,  and  there  were  sorties 
and  rencounters,  of  which  the  most  spirited  was  be 
tween  the  famous  Colonel  Tarleton  and  the  Duke  de 
Lauzun,  in  which  it  was  the  fortune  of  the  chivalrous 
nobleman  to  unhorse  that  dashing  officer,  who  scram 
bled  out  of  the  m//ee,  mounted  another  horse,  and 
sounded  a  retreat.  This  was  the  last  affair  of  the  ter 
rible  Tarleton  and  of  his  legion  in  the  Revolutionary 
war. 

On  the  night  of  the  I4th,  it  was  determined  to 
storm  two  of  the  redoubts  which  enfiladed  the  works 
of  the  besiegers,  and  were  supposed  also  to  command 
the  communication  between  Yorktown  and  Glou 
cester.  The  one  nearest  the  river  was  attacked  by  a 
detachment  of  Americans  commanded  by  Lafayette; 
the  other,  by  a  French  detachment  led  by  the  Baron 
de  Viom6nil.  Hamilton,  who  subsequently  became 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  69 

so  famous  as  a  statesman,  was  the  first  to  mount  the 
parapet  by  placing  one  foot  on  the  shoulder  of  a 
soldier  who  knelt  on  one  knee  for  the  purpose,  and 
the  redoubt  was  carried  at  the  point  of  the  bayonet. 
The  redoubt  which  was  to  be  stormed  by  the  French 
was  more  strongly  garrisoned.  They  had,  therefore,  to 
proceed  with  less  precipitation  and  according  to  rule. 
The  soldiers  stood  still  under  a  destructive  fire,  whilst 
the  sappers  were  removing  the  abatis,  and  they  suf 
fered  considerably.  Whilst  the  French  were  thus  pati 
ently  waiting  for  the  order  of  assault,  Major  Barbour, 
Lafayette's  aide-de-camp,  came  through  the  tremend 
ous  fire  of  the  enemy,  and  informed  the  Baron  de 
Viomenil  that  the  marquis  was  in  his  redoubt,  and 
wished  to  know  where  the  baron  was.  "  Tell  your 
general,"  replied  the  latter,  "  that  I  am  not  in  mine, 
but  will  be  in  it  in  five  minutes."  The  word  to  as 
sault  was  then  given,  and  the  French  went  to  it  with 
a  rush.  The  Chevalier  de  Lameth  was  the  first  to 
mount  the  parapet,  but,  shot  through  both  knees,  he 
fell  back  into  the  ditch,  and  was  carried  away  by  his 
friend,  the  Count  de  Dumas.  The  Count  de  Deux- 
ponts,  leading  on  the  royal  grenadiers  of  the  same 
name,  was  likewise  wounded.  The  company  in  which 
Aubert  Dubayet  was  a  lieutenant,  fought  with  exem 
plary  heroism  ;  two-thirds  of  the  men  fell,  and  almost 
all  the  officers  were  killed,  with  the  exception  of  Du 
bayet.  When  the  Baron  de  Viom6nil  stood  in  front 
of  the  few  men  at  whose  head  Dubayet  had  placed 
himself  to  receive  his  commander,  who  came  to  inspect 
the  taken  redoubt,  "  Lieutenant,"  said  the  baron  to 
the  young  officer,  "  I  have  heard  of  the  conversation 
which  you  had  with  Marshal  Rochambeau,  when  you 
applied  for  service  in  the  army.  You  see  that  it  is 


70  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

not  so  easy,  as  he  predicted,  to  find  death  when  seek 
ing  it,  and  that  promotion  presents  itself  in  its  stead. 
I  salute  you  as  captain." 

Washington,  notwithstanding  his  habitual  self-pos 
session,  had,  from  the  embrasure  of  the  main  battery, 
witnessed  these  assaults  with  intense  interest.  So 
much  depended  on  their  successful  issue !  Generals 
Knox  and  Lincoln  and  a  crowd  of  officers  were  around 
him.  The  risk  of  a  chance  shot  for  their  chief  made 
those  about  him  uneasy.  One  of  his  aides-de-camp 
ventured  on  the  observation  that  the  situation  was 
very  much  exposed.  "  If  you  think  so,"  replied  he 
gravely,  "  you  are  at  liberty  to  step  back." 

After  the  taking  of  these  two  redoubts,  the  be 
sieged  could  not  show  a  gun  on  the  side  of  the  works 
exposed  to  attack,  without  its  being  quickly  silenced. 
Their  provisions  and  ammunition  were  nearly  spent  ; 
their  works  were  tumbling  in  ruins  under  incessant 
cannonade,  the  garrison  was  reduced  and  prostrated  by 
sickness,  death,  and  constant  fatigues ;  the  place  was 
no  longer  tenable ;  and  Lord  Cornwallis  capitulated 
on  the  iQth  of  October,  1781  ;  the  officers,  to  retain 
their  side  arms,  both  officers  and  soldiers  their  private 
property,  and  no  part  of  their  baggage  or  papers  to 
be  subject  to  search  or  inspection.  Cornwallis  ren 
dered  the  following  testimony  to  his  captors  :  "  The 
treatment,  in  general,  that  we  have  received  from  the 
enemy  since  our  surrender,  has  been  perfectly  good 
and  proper ;  but  the  kindness  and  attention  which 
has  been  shown  us  by  the  French  officers  in  particu 
lar,  their  delicate  sensibility  for  our  situation,  their 
generous  and  pressing  offer  of  money,  both  public 
and  private,  to  any  amount,  has  really  gone  beyond 
what  I  can  possibly  describe,  and  will,  I  hope,  make 


A UBERT  DUBA  YET.  ji 

an  impression  in  the  breast  of  every  officer,  whenever 
the  fortune  of  war  shall  put  any  of  them  into  our 
power." 

The  joy  of  Congress  was  boundless.  Thanks  were 
voted  to  Washington,*  to  the  Counts  de  Rochambeau 
and  de  Grasse,  to  the  officers  of  the  allied  armies 
generally,  and  to  the  corps  of  artillery  and  engineer.0, 
especially.  Two  stands  of  colors,  trophies  of  the 
capitulation,  were  voted  to  Washington  ;  two  pieces 
of  field  ordnance  to  Rochambeau  and  de  Grasse ; 
and  it  was  decreed  that  a  marble  column,  commemo 
rative  of  the  alliance  between  France  and  the  United 
States,  and  of  the  victory  achieved  by  their  associated 
arms,  should  be  erected  in  Yorktown.  As  to  the 
British  government,  when  Lord  North,  the  head  of 
the  ministry,  received  at  his  office  in  Downing  street 
the  news  of  the  surrender  of  Cornwallis,  it  was  as  if 
he  had  been  struck  with  a  ball  in  the  breast,  for  he 
opened  his  arms,  exclaiming  wildly  as  he  paced  up  and 
down  the  apartment :  "  O  God  !  it  is  all  over."  It 
was,  indeed,  all  over,  and  the  independence  of  the 
United  States  of  America  was  an  accomplished  fact. 


*  Irving's  "  Life  of  Washington,"  p.  356,  vol.  iv. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

DISCONTENT  OF  THE  ARMY — A  CR'OWN  OFFERED  TO 
WASHINGTON. 

THE  allied  forces  separated  shortly  after  the  fall  of 
Yorktown.  The  Marquis  de  St  Sjmon  embarked  his 
troops  on  the  last  of  October,  and  Admiral  de  Grasse 
sailed  with  his  fleet  on  the  4th  of  November.  Lafay 
ette,  seeing  that  the  campaign  had  ended  for  that 
year,  departed  for  Philadelphia  to  obtain  from  Con 
gress  leave  to  visit  his  family  in  France.  Most  of  the 
American  troops  returned  northward  to  winter  in  the 
Jerseys  and  on  the  Hudson.  Count  de  Rochambeau 
was  to  remain  in  Virginia,  and  established  his  head 
quarters  at  Williamsburgh.  On  hearing  of  the  capitu 
lation  of  Cornwallis,  the  king  of  France  promised  a 
further  loan  of  six  millions  of  livres.  It  was  the  anx 
ious  wish  of  Washington  to  prepare  everything  for  a 
vigorous  campaign  in  the  ensuing  year.  But  the  preva 
lent  opinion  was,  that  peace  was  at  hand  ;  and,  under 
that  impression,  the  people  were  loth  to  make  new 
sacrifices  and  to  encounter  a  continuation  of  the  terri 
ble  trials  they  had  gone  through.  The  respective 
quotas  of  troops  which  were  expected  from  several 
States  came  dripping  slowly  like  drops  of  water  from 
a  filtering  stone,  and  still  slower  came  the  contribu 
tions  in  money.  This  condition  of  things  produced 
great  discontent  in  the  army  officers  and  men,  for  they 
were  reduced  to  the  utmost  destitution  without  any 

(72) 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  73 

hope  of  relief.  There  were  days  when  they  were  en 
tirely  destitute  of  food,  and  their  clothing  was  not 
sufficient  to  protect  them  against  the  inclemencies  of 
the  weather  in  that  season.  It  was  long  since  the 
officers  had  received  any  pay  with  which  to  support 
themselves  and  their  starving  families  at  home.  Half 
pay  had  been  decreed  to  them  for  a  term  of  years 
after  the  termination  of  the  war.  But  they  began  to 
fear,  should  that  event  happen,  to  be  disbanded  with 
out  any  liquidation  of  their  claims  and  without  the 
fulfilment  of  the  decree  of  Congress  in  relation  to  their 
half  pay  in  the  future.  To  be  sent  away  penniless, 
when  years  of  military  life  had  unfitted  them  for  the 
gainful  pursuits  of  the  civilian,  was  a  prospect  at  which 
they  looked  with  the  utmost  degree  of  anxiety. 

Such  was  the  state  of  affairs  in  America  when  Au- 
bert  Dubayet  wrote  to  Lakanal  the  following  letter : 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : — This  letter  will  be  to  you  a 
shock  which  will  awake  you  out  of  your  republican 
dreams.  The  American  army  is  on  the  eve  of  offer 
ing  a  crown  to  its  commander-in-chief.  Having  ob 
tained  a  furlough,  I  am  on  a  visit  to  Colonel  Lewis 
Nicola,  a  veteran  officer,  who  honors  me  with  his 
friendship  and  confidence.  He  has  been  for  years  on 
a  footing  of  intimacy  with  General  Washington  and 
exercises  a  great  influence  over  his  companions  in 
arms.  As  the  organ  of  the  suffering  army  with  whose 
wrongs  he  keenly  sympathizes,  he  has  forwarded  to 
the  commander-in-chief  a  communication  in  which  he 
strongly  condemns  the  existing  form  of  government, 
and  attributes  to  it  all  the  ills  already  experienced 
and  yet  to  be  anticipated  by  the  army  and  the  people 
at  large.  He  considers  that  the  idea  of  republican 
government  rests  on  a  sentimental  and  platonic  theory, 
4 


74  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

which,  in  practice,  would  produce  the  most  lamenta 
ble  results,  and  is  decidedly  incompatible  with  the 
permanency  of  stable  institutions,  such  as  are  founded 
on  honor,  dignity,  and  morality,  and  therefore  exclu 
sive  of  a  lasting  and  reliable  national  prosperity.  He 
maintains  that  a  mixed  government  like  that  of  En 
gland  is  the  best  which  has  ever  been  devised  by  the 
wisdom  of  man,  and  that  it  could  be  readily  im 
planted  here,  if  its  many  advantages  and  benefits 
were  properly  pointed  out  and  fearlessly  advocated. 
'  In  that  case,'  says  he  to  the  general,  '  it  will,  I  be 
lieve,  be  uncontroverted,  that  the  same  abilities  which 
have  led  us,  through  difficulties  apparently  insur 
mountable  by  human  power,  to  victory  and  glory ; 
that  those  qualities  which  have  merited  and  obtained 
the  universal  esteem  and  veneration  of  an  army, 
would  be  most  likely  to  conduct  and  direct  us  in  the 
smoother  paths  of  peace.  Some  people  have  so  con 
nected  the  idea  of  tyranny  and  monarchy  as  to  find 
it  very  difficult  to  separate  them.  It  may,  therefore, 
be  requisite  to  give  the  head  of  such  a  constitution 
as  I  propose  some  title  apparently  more  moderate ; 
but,  if  all  other  things  were  once  adjusted,  I  believe 
strong  arguments  might  be  produced  for  admitting 
the  title  of  king,  which,  I  conceive,  would  be  attended 
with  some  material  advantages.' 

"  You  shudder,  my  Brutus,  but  compose  yourself 
and  listen  to  the  magnificent  answer  of  tempted  am 
bition  :  '  With  a  mixture  of  great  sorrow  and  aston 
ishment,'  says  Washington  to  Colonel  Lewis  Nicola, 
'  I  have  read  with  attention  the  sentiments  you  have 
submitted  to  my  perusal.  Be  assured,  Sir,  no  occur 
rence  in  the  course  of  the  war  has  given  me  more 
painful  sensations  than  your  information  of  there 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T, 


75 


being  sjch  ideas  existing  in  the  army  as  you  have 
expressed,  and  which  I  must  view  with  abhorrence, 
and  reprehend  with  severity.  For  the  present,  the 
communication  of  them  will  rest  in  my  bosom,  unless 
some  further  agitation  of  the  matter  shall  make  a  dis 
closure  necessary.  I  am  much  at  a  loss  to  conceive 
what  part  of  my  conduct  could  have  given  encour 
agement  to  an  address  which,  to  me,  seems  big  with 
the  greatest  mischief  that  could  befall  my  country. 
If  I  am  not  deceived  in  the  knowledge  of  myself, 
you  could  not  have  found  a  person  to  whom  your 
schemes  are  more  disagreeable.  At  the  same  time, 
in  justice  to  my  own  feelings,  I  must  add,  that  no 
man  possesses  a  more  sincere  wish  to  see  ample  jus 
tice  done  to  the  army  than  I  do ;  and  as  far  as  my 
powers  and  influence,  in  a  constitutional  way,  extend, 
they  shall  be  employed  to  the  utmost  of  my  abilities 
to  effect  it,  should  there  be  any  occasion.  Let  me 
conjure  you,  then,  if  you  have  any  regard  for  your 
country,  concern  for  yourself,  or  posterity,  or  respect 
for  me,  to  banish  these  thoughts  from  your  mind,  and 
never  communicate,  as  from  yourself  or  any  one  else, 
a  sentiment  of  the  like  nature.' 

"  You  will  no  doubt,  my  dear  Lakanal,  on  reading 
these  lines,  shout  with  enthusiasm,  but  patience — 
patience.  Who  knows  what  may  yet  turn  up  ?  " 

On  the  2d  of  August,  1782,  Sir  Guy  Carleton  and 
Admiral  Digby  wrote  a  joint  letter  to  Washington, 
informing  him  that  they  knew  officially  that  there  had 
already  commenced  at  Paris  negotiations  for  a  general 
peace,  which  would  secure  the  independence  of  the 
United  States.  But  these  assurances  found  Wash 
ington  very  wary  and  distrustful.  In  one  of  his  let 
ters  he  says :  "  From  the  former  infatuation,  duplicity, 


76  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

and  perverse  system  of  British  policy,  I  confess  I  am 
induced  to  doubt  everything,  to  suspect  everything. 
Whatever  the  real  intention  of  the  enemy  may  be,  I 
think  that  the  strictest  attention  and  exertion  which 
have  ever  been  exercised  on  our  part,  instead  of  being 
diminished,  ought  to  be  increased.  Jealousy  and  pre 
caution  at  least  can  do  no  harm.  Too  much  confi 
dence  and  supineness  may  be  pernicious  in  the  ex 
treme."  Under  these  impressions  he  wrote  to  Count 
de  Rochambeau,  advising  him  to  march  his  troops  to 
the  banks  of  the  Hudson  and  form  a  junction  with 
the  American  army.  That  junction  took  place  about 
the  middle  of  September.  The  French  army  en 
camped  on  the  left  of  the  American,  about  two  miles 
from  Verplanck's  Point.  The  greatest  good-will  and 
harmony  continued  to  prevail  between  the  allied 
forces,  but  the  Americans,  in  the  raggedness  of  their 
condition,  had  but  scanty  means  to  be  hospitable  to 
their  transatlantic  friends.  "  Only  conceive,"  wrote 
Washington,  "  the  mortification  they  must  suffer,  even 
the  general  officers,  when  they  can  not  invite  a  French 
officer,  a  visiting  friend,  or  a  travelling  acquaintance, 
to  a  better  repast  than  whisky  hot  from  the  still,  and 
not  always  that,  and  a  bit  of  beef  without  vegetables, 
will  afford  them." 

Notwithstanding  Washington's  apprehensions,  Con 
gress  acted  as  if  they  were  already  sure  of  peace,  and 
a  contemplated  reduction  of  the  army  was  proposed 
to  take  place  on  the  ist  of  January,  1783.  Washing 
ton  expressed  warmly  his  feelings  on  that  subject : 
"  While  I  premise  that  no  one  I  have  seen  or  heard 
appears  opposed  to  the  principle  of  reducing  the 
army  as  circumstances  may  require,  yet  I  can  not  help 
fearing  the  result  of  the  measure  in  contemplation, 


A  USER  T  D  USA  YE  T. 


77 


under  present  circumstances,  when  I  see  a  number  of 
men,  goaded  by  a  thousand  stings  of  reflection  on  the 
past,  and  of  anticipation^  on  the  future,  about  to  be 
turned  into  the  world,  soured  by  penury  and  what 
they  call  the  ingratitude  of  the  public,  involved  in 
debts,  without  one  farthing  of  money  to  carry  them 
home,  after  having  spent  the  flower  of  their  days, 
and  many  of  them  their  patrimonies,  in  establishing 
the  freedom  and  independence  of  their  country,  and 
suffering  everything  that  human  nature  is  capable  of 
enduring  on  this  side  of  death.  I  repeat  it,  that  when 
I  consider  these  irritating  circumstances,  without  one 
thing  to  soothe  their  feelings,  or  dispel  their  gloomy 
prospects,  I  can  not  avoid  apprehending  that  a  train 
of  evils  will  follow,  of  a  very  serious  and  distressing 
nature.  I  wish  not  to  heighten  the  shades  of  the 
picture  so  far  as  the  reality  would  justify  me  in  doing 
it.  I  could  give  anecdotes  of  patriotism  and  distress, 
which  have  scarcely  ever  been  paralleled,  never  sur 
passed,  in  the  history  of  mankind.  But  you  may 
rely  upon  it,  the  patience  and  long-suffering  of  this 
army  are  almost  exhausted,  and  there  never  was  so 
great  a  spirit  of  discontent  as  at  this  instant.  While 
in  the  field,  I  think  it  may  be  kept  from  breaking  into 
acts  of  mutiny ;  but  when  we  retire  into  winter  quar 
ters,  unless  the  storm  is  previously  dissipated,  I  can 
not  be  at  ease  respecting  the  consequences.  It  is 
high  time  for  a  peace."  Well  might  Washington  feel 
ill  at  ease,  for  he  had  in  his  pocket,  whilst  he  penned 
these  lines,  the  secret  letter  of  Colonel  Lewis  Nicola, 
and  he  knew  that  it  contained  the  expression  of  the 
sentiment  of  the  army. 

Among  the  papers  of  Lakanal  has  been  found  the 


78  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

following  communication  which  was  addressed  to  him 
in  the  month  of  March,  1783 : 

DUBAYET  TO   LAKANAL. 

"  MY  DEAR  FRIEND  : — The  French  forces  have 
been  for  several  months  at  Verplanck's  Point,  on  the 
Hudson  river.  I  frequently  visit  the  camp  of  the 
American  army,  which  is  in  our  neighborhood,  at  a 
place  called  Newburg,  where  General  Washington  had 
established  his  headquarters  for  the  winter,  and  where 
they  still  remain,  as  the  near  prospect  of  peace  pre 
vents  all  military  operations.  I  have  already  informed 
you  that  the  discontent  of  that  army  is  very  great. 
The  long  inactivity  of  a  winter  camp  has  been  but  too 
favorable  to  the  fermentation  of  the  leaven  which  was 
but  too  ready  to  work.  The  soldiers  brooded  on  their 
wrongs  and  distresses.  They  had  nothing  else  to  do 
but  to  discuss  the  neglect  and  injustice  with  which 
they  were  treated,  and  lash  themselves  into  anger. 
Would  the  '  Resolution  '  of  Congress,  granting  half  pay 
to  officers  who  should  serve  to  the  end  of  the  war,  be 
carried  into  execution?  Where  would  the  funds  be 
procured  ?  Is  not  the  treasury  of  the  confederation 
an  empty  bag  which  is  never  to  be  filled  up  ?  Do  not 
the  respective  States  show  the  utmost  reluctance  to 
tax  themselves  ?  Can  anything  more  be  begged  suc 
cessfully  from  foreign  sources?  According  to  the  ar 
ticles  of  confederation,  is  not  the  concurrence  of  nine 
States  needed  for  the  validity  of  any  act  appropriat 
ing  public  money,  and  is  it  not  known  that  such  a 
concurrence  has  never  been  given  ?  Will  it  ever  be 
obtained?  Should  scanty  funds  be  collected  with 
laborious  effort,  will  it  not  be  said  that  there  are  more 
pressing  and  imperious  exigencies  than  our  claim  ?  Do 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  fg 

we  not  know  that  that  claim,  just  and  sacred  as  it  is, 
stinks  in  the  jealous  nostrils  of  an  ungrateful  peo 
ple  ?  Who  will  care  for  us  when  we  shall  no  longer  be 
wanted  ?  Shall  we  not  be  treated  as  drones  who  have 
no  right  to  be  fed  at  the  public  expense  ?  Are  not 
republics  famous  for  their  short  memory  of  services 
rendered  ?  Such  were  the  questions  which  they  put 
to  themselves,  and  the  more  frequently  they  were 
asked,  the  higher  rose  the  heat  of  their  resentment. 
At  last,  Colonel  John  Armstrong,  a  young  man  of 
distinguished  abilities,  who  is  aide-de-camp  to  General 
Gates,  and  who,  I  am  sure,  will  in  the  course  of  time 
rise  to  great  eminence  in  his  country,  with  the  ap 
probation  of  his  chief,  and  at  the  request  of  a  num 
ber  of  his  fellow  officers,  applied  the  spur  and  the  lash 
to  the  already  too  much  goaded  spirit  of  discontent, 
by  causing  to  be  circulated  in  the  camp  the  following 
anonymous  address,  calling  a  meeting  of  the  generals 
and  other  officers  on  the  next  day  at  eleven  o'clock, 
to  consider  what  means  should  be  employed  to  obtain 
that  redress  of  grievances  which  they  had  prayed  for 
in  vain : 

"'After  a  pursuit  of  seven  long  years/  said  the 
writer,  '  the  object  for  which  we  set  out  is  at  length 
within  your  reach.  Yes,  my  friends,  that  suffering 
courage  of  yours  was  active  once ;  it  has  conducted 
the  United  States  of  America  through  a  doubtful  and 
bloody  war ;  it  has  placed  her  in  the  chair  of  inde 
pendency  ;  and  peace  returns  to  bless — whom  ?  A 
country  willing  to  redress  your  wrongs,  cherish  your 
worth,  and  reward  your  services  ?  A  country  courting 
your  return  to  private  life,  with  tears  of  gratitude  and 
smiles  of  admiration,  longing  to  divide  with  you  that 
independency  which  your  gallantry  has  given,  and 


8o  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

those  riches  which  your  wounds  have  preserved  ?  Is 
this  the  case?  Or  is  it  rather  a  country  that  tramples 
upon  your  rights,  disdains  your  cries,  and  insults  your 
distress?  Have  you  not  more  than  once  suggested 
your  wishes  and  made  known  your  wants  to  Congress 
— wants  and  wishes  which  gratitude  and  policy  should 
have  anticipated,  rather  than  evaded  ?  And  have  you 
not  lately,  in  the  meek  language  of  entreating  memo 
rials,  begged  from  their  justice  what  you  could  no 
longer  expect  from  their  favor  ?  How  have  you  been 
answered  ? 

"  '  If  this,  then,  be  your  treatment  while  the  swords 
you  wear  are  necessary  for  the  defense  of  America, 
what  have  you  to  expect  from  peace,  when  your  voice 
shall  sink,  and  your  strength  dissipate  by  division  ; 
when  those  very  swords,  the  instruments  and  com 
panions  of  your  glory,  shall  be  taken  from  your  sides, 
and  no  remaining  mark  of  military  distinction  left  but 
your  wants,  infirmities,  and  scars?  Can  you  then 
consent  to  be  the  only  sufferers  by  the  revolution, 
and,  retiring  from  the  field,  grow  old  in  poverty, 
wretchedness,  and  contempt  ?  Can  you  consent  to 
wade  through  the  vile  mire  of  dependency,  and  owe 
the  miserable  remnant  of  that  life  to  charity,  which 
has  hitherto  been  spent  in  honor?  If  you  can,  go, 
and  carry  with  you  the  jest  of  Tories  and  the  scorn 
of  Whigs,  the  ridicule,  and,  what  is  worse,  the  pity  of 
the  world.  Go,  starve,  and  be  forgotten.  But  if  your 
spirits  should  revolt  at  this  ;  if  you  have  sense  enough 
and  spirit  sufficient  to  oppose  tyranny,  under  whatever 
garb  it  may  assume,  whether  it  be  the  plain  coat  of 
republicanism,  or  the  splendid  robe  of  royalty  ;  if  you 
have  yet  learned  to  discriminate  between  a  people 
and  a  cause,  between  men  and  principles ;  awake,  at- 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  g  I 

tend  to  your  situation,  and  redress  yourselves  !  If  the 
present  moment  be  lost,  every  future  effort  is  in  vain  ; 
and  your  threats  then  will  be  as  empty  as  your  en 
treaties  now. 

" '  I  would  advise  you,  therefore,  to  come  to  some  final 
opinion  upon  what  you  can  bear,  and  what  you  will 
suffer.  If  your  determination  be  in  any  proportion  to 
your  wrongs,  carry  your  appeal  from  the  justice  to 
the  fears  of  government.  Change  the  milk-and-water 
style  of  your  last  memorial.  Assume  a  bolder  tone, 
decent,  but  lively,  spirited,  and  determined;  and  sus 
pect  the  man  who  would  advise  to  more  moderation 
and  longer  forbearance.  Let  two  or  three  men,  who 
can  feel  as  well  as  write,  be  appointed  to  draw  up 
your  last  remonstrance,  for  I  would  no  longer  give  it 
the  suing,  soft,  and  unsuccessful  epithet  of  memorial. 
Let  it  represent,  in  language  that  will  neither  dishonor 
you  by  its  rudeness,  nor  betray  you  by  its  fears,  what 
has  been  promised  by  Congress,  and  what  has  been 
performed ;  how  long  and  patiently  you  have  suffered ; 
how  little  you  have  asked,  and  how  much  of  that  little 
has  been  denied.  Tell  them  that,  though  you  were  the 
first,  and  would  wish  to  be  the  last,  to  encounter  danger, 
though  despair  itself  can  never  drive  you  into  dis 
honor,  it  may  drive  you  from  the  field ;  that  the 
wound,  often  irritated  and  never  healed,  may  at 
last  become  incurable  ;  and  that  the  slightest  mark  of 
indignity  from  Congress  now  must  operate  like  the 
grave  and  part  you  forever ;  that  in  any  political 
event,  the  army  has  its  alternative ;  if  peace,  that 
nothing  .shall  separate  you  from  your  arms  but  death  ; 
if  war,  t.iat,  courting  the  auspices  and  inviting  the 
direction  of  your  illustrious  leader,  you  will  retire  to 
some  unsettled  country,  smile  in  your  turn,  and 
4* 


82  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YET. 

"  mock  when  their  fear  cometh  on."  But  let  it  repre 
sent  also,  that,  should  they  comply  with  the  request 
of  your  late  memorial,  it  would  make  you  more  happy 
and  them  more  respectable ;  that  while  war  should 
continue,  you  would  follow  their  standard  into  the 
field :  and  when  it  came  to  an  end,  you  would  with 
draw  into  the  shade  of  private  life,  and  give  the  world 
another  subject  of  wonder  and  applause — an  army 
victorious  over  its  enemies,  victorious  over  itself.' 

"  Surely  this  was  bold  and  eloquent,  my  dear 
Lakanal,  but  it  was  dangerous;  it  meant  mischief;  it 
meant  more  than  it  said,  and  it  produced  the  effect 
which  was  expected.  The  agitation  in  the  camp  be 
came  so  intense,  that  Washington  had  to  notice  it. 
He  immediately  issued  general  orders,  in  which  he 
reprobated  as  disorderly  and  seditious  the  anonymous 
publication,  and  expressed  his  confidence  that  the 
good  sense  of  the  people  would  prevent  them  from 
paying  attention  to  such  an  irregular  invitation.  He 
went  further;  for,  in  order  to  counteract  its  effects, 
which  appeared  to  him  exceedingly  alarming,  he  re 
quested  that  a  meeting,  fixed  for  the  loth  of  March, 
should  not  take  place,  and  convened  another  for  the 
1 5th,  which  delay  would  afford  sufficient  time  to  the 
committee  they  had  deputed  to  Congress  to  make 
their  report.  But,  the  next  morning,  there  appeared 
another  anonymous  publication,  subsequently  dis 
covered  to  be,  like  the  first,  by  Colonel  Armstrong, 
the  aide-de-camp  of  General  Gates.  With  insidious 
dexterity,  it  maintained  that  the  step  taken  by  Gen 
eral  Washington  was  an  approbation  of  the  course 
which  the  army  had  to  pursue.  '  That  step,'  said  the 
author,  'authorizes  your  meetings  for  redress,  and 
there  is  no  doubt  that  our  leader's  private  opinion 


A  UBER T  D UBA  YET.  83 

sanctifies  our  claims.  Had  he  disliked  the  object  in 
view,  would  not  the  same  sense  of  duty  which  forbade 
your  meeting  on  the  third  day  of  the  week,  have  for 
bidden  you  from  meeting  on  the  seventh?  Is  not  the 
same  subject  held  up  to  your  view?  And  has  it  not 
passed  the  seal  of  office,  and  taken  all  the  solemnity 
of  an  order?  This  will  give  system  to  your  proceed 
ings  and  stability  to  your  resolves.' 

"  Enough  for  the  present,  my  dear  Lakanal.  This 
is  the  first  act  of  the  drama.  It  promises  to  be  inter 
esting,  as  you  see.  You  may  rest  assured  of  my  keep 
ing  you  posted  as  to  what  is  to  follow." 


CHAPTER  VII. 

DISBANDING  OF  THE  REVOLUTIONARY  ARMY — SUB 
LIMITY  OF  THE  MORAL  CHARACTER  OF  WASH 
INGTON. 

"  I  WILL  not  attempt,"  wrote  Dubayet  to  Lakanal 
a  few  days  after,  "  to  describe  to  you  the  intense 
interest  with  which  I  watched  the  results  of  the  pro 
ceedings  related  to  you  in  my  last  letter.  On  the  eve 
of  the  1 5th,  Washington,  who,  from  the  reports  which 
had  reached  his  ears,  had  serious  misgivings  as  to  the 
turn  which  the  meeting  would  take,  sent  for  the  offi 
cers,  one  by  one,  in  private,  made  a  pathetic  appeal 
to  their  patriotism,  and  represented  to  them  in  the 
most  forcible  language  what  would  be  the  loss  of 
character  to  the  army,  should  they,  in  the  meeting  of 
the  next  day,  adopt  intemperate  resolutions.  When 
they  assembled  on  that  day,  General  Gates  was  called 
to  the  chair.  Washington  had  spent  a  sleepless  night, 
and  so  keen  had  become  his  inquietude,  notwith 
standing,  and  perhaps  because  of,  the  personal  inter 
view  which  he  had  held  with  every  officer,  and  in 
which  he  had  had  the  opportunity  of  probing  the 
condition  of  their  minds  and  the  excitement  of  their 
feelings,  that  he  resolved  to  attend  the  meeting,  and 
made  his  appearance  there,  to  the  astonishment  of 
all.  He  apologized  for  it,  and  said  that  such  had  not 
been  his  original  intention  when  he  had  convoked  the 
(84) 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  85 

assemblage.  But,  as  his  sentiments  had  been  misrep 
resented  or  misconstrued  in  anonymous  writings,  he 
had,  after  due  reflection,  come  to  the  conclusion  that 
it  was  proper  that  he  should  make  his  views  clear  to 
the  army.  Therefore,  with  the  indulgence  of  his 
brother  officers,  he  would  take  the  liberty  of  reading 
to  them  the  thoughts  which  he  had  committed  to 
writing :  *  If  my  conduct  heretofore/  he  said,  '  has  not 
convinced  you  that  I  have  been  a  faithful  friend  to 
the  army,  my  declaration  of  it  at  this  time  would  be 
equally  unavailing  and  improper.' 

"  He  stopped  after  reading  this  first  paragraph, 
made  a  short  pause,  looked  round  the  audience  with 
grave  benignity,  drew  out  his  spectacles,  and  begged 
to  be  excused  whilst  he  took  time  to  put  them  on. 
'  My  eyes  have  become  dim,'  he  observed  ;  '  I  have 
grown  gray  in  the  service  of  our  country,  and  now  I 
find  myself  growing  blind.'  No  studied  burst  of  ora 
tory  ever  produced,  my  dear  Lakanal,  the  effect  of  a 
remark  so  natural,  so  unaffected,  and  so  inexpressibly 
touching  by  the  quiet  manner  in  which  it  was  deliv 
ered.  Every  eye  became  moist,  every  heart  palpi 
tated,  and  mine,  for  I  had  the  good  fortune  to  wit 
ness  this  scene,  beat  so  loud  that  I  fancied  I  could 
almost  hear  its  throbs.  Washington  thus  resumed 
his  discourse:  'As  I  was  among  the  first  who  em 
barked  in  the  cause  of  our  common  country;  as  I 
have  never  left  your  side  one  moment,  but  when 
called  from  you  on  public  duty ;  as  I  have  been  the 
constant  companion  and  witness  of  your  distresses, 
and  not  among  the  last  to  feel  and  acknowledge  your 
merits  ,  as  I  have  ever  considered  my  own  military 
reputation  as  inseparably  connected  with  that  of  the 
army ;  as  my  heart  has  ever  expanded  with  joy  when 


86  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

I  have  heard  its  praises,  and  my  indignation  has  arisen 
when  the  mouth  of  detraction  has  been  opened  against 
it,  it  can  not  be  supposed  at  this  last  stage  of  the  war 
that  I  am  indifferent  to  its  interests.'  Here  a  deep 
sensation  thrilled  through  the  audience  and  found  its 
vent  in  loud  and  prolonged  cheers.  Washington 
waved  his  hand,  and  silence  was  re-established.  'As 
to  myself,'  continued  he,  '  a  recollection  of  the  cheer 
ful  assistance  and  prompt  obedience  I  have  experi 
enced  from  you  under  every  vicissitude  of  fortune, 
and  the  sincere  affection  I  feel  for  an  army  I  have  so 
long  had  the  honor  to  command,  will  oblige  me  to 
declare,  in  this  public  and  solemn  manner,  that  for 
the  attainment  of  complete  justice  for  all  your  toils 
and  dangers,  and  the  gratification  of  every  wish,  so 
far  as  may  be  done  consistently  with  the  great  duty  I 
owe  my  country  and  those  powers  we  are  bound  to 
respect,  you  may  fully  command  my  services  to  the 
utmost  extent  of  my  abilities.'  There  was  another 
burst  of  applause,  interrupted  by  a  deprecatory  gest 
ure  of  the  general. 

" '  While  I  give  you  these  assurances,'  he  said,  '  and 
pledge  myself  in  the  most  unequivocal  manner  to  ex 
ert  whatever  abilities  I  am  possessed  of  in  your  favor, 
let  me  entreat  you,  gentlemen,  on  your  part,  not  to 
take  any  measures  which,  viewed  in  the  calm  light  of 
reason,  will  lessen  the  dignity  and  sully  the  glory  you 
have  hitherto  maintained ;  let  me  request  you  to  rely 
on  the  plighted  faith  of  your  country,  and  place  a  full 
confidence  in  the  purity  of  the  intentions  of  Congress.' 
He  went  on  assuring  them  that  it  was  his  conviction 
that  complete  justice  would  ultimately  be  done  to 
them  by  that  body.  '  But,  at  the  same  time,  let  me 
conjure  you,'  he  added,  '  in  the  name  of  our  common 


A  UBER T  D UBA  YET.  g/ 

country,  as  you  value  your  own  sacred  honor,  as  you 
respect  the  rights  of  humanity,  as  you  regard  the  mil 
itary  and  national  honor  of  America,  to  express  your 
utmost  horror  and  detestation  of  the  man  who  wishes, 
under  any  specious  pretences,  to  overturn  the  liber 
ties  of  our  country,  and  who  wickedly  attempts  to 
open  the  flood-gates  of  civil  discord  and  deluge  our 
rising  empire  in  blood.  By  thus  determining,  and 
thus  acting,  you  will  pursue  the  plain  and  direct  road 
to  the  attainment  of  your  wishes;  you  will  defeat  the 
insidious  designs  of  our  enemies,  who  are  compelled 
to  resort  from  open  force  to  secret  artifice ;  you  will 
give  one  more  distinguished  proof  of  unexampled 
patriotism  and  patient  virtue,  rising  superior  to  the 
pressure  of  the  most  complicated  sufferings  ;  and  you 
will,  by  the  dignity  of  your  conduct,  afford  occasion 
for  posterity  to  say,  when  speaking  of  the  glorious 
example  you  have  exhibited  to  mankind  :  had  this 
day  been  wanting,  the  world  had  never  seen  the  last 
stage  of  perfection  to  which  human  nature  is  capable 
of  attaining.' 

"  Now  the  general  produced  a  letter  which  he  had 
received  from  one  of  the  most  influential  members  of 
Congress,  who  assured  him  that,  in  spite  of  all  diffi 
culties  and  embarrassments,  that  body  would,  at  all 
events,  deal  generously  with  the  army.  It  was  evi 
dent  to  me,  my  dear  Lakanal,  that  this  magnificent 
address  had  produced  a  revolution  in  the  breasts  of 
the  audience,  and  that  there  would  be  no  opposition 
to  the  wishes  of  the  man  whom  they  loved  and  ven 
erated  so  much.  The  object  of  that  love  and  vener 
ation  must  also  have  been  aware  of  the  change  he  had 
operated,  for,  bowing  kindly  to  his  brother  officers,  he 
withdrew  leaving  them  to  their  deliberations.  As  he 


88  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

disappeared,  I  could  not  but  exclaim :  How  sublime  ! 
As  I  spoke  these  words,  a  hand  pressed  my  arm,  and 
a  sneering  voice  whispered  in  my  ear,  '  Sublime!  aye 
— a  sublime  simpleton  in  not  availing  himself  of  this 
golden  opportunity,  and  in  believing  in  the  duration 
of  institutions  founded  on  that  most  mischievous  of 
all  lies  which  proclaims  that  all  men  are  born  free 
and  equal.'  I  turned  round  and  looked  with  astonish 
ment  at  the  speaker,  who  bowed  slightly  to  me  and 
departed.  It  was  Colonel  Aaron  Burr,  a  man  of  iron 
nerves,  wonderful  abilities,  indefatigable  industry,  re 
morseless  and  unprincipled  ambition,  whom  I  have 
met  several  times.  If  I  have  read  him  well,  my  good 
friend,  let  the  new  republic  beware  of  him. 

"After  General  Washington  had  retired,  the  warm 
hearted  Knox  presented  '  Resolutions,'  seconded  by 
the  rough  and  blunt  General  Putnam,  which  were  in 
conformity  with  the  wishes  of  the  commander-in-chief, 
and  were  unanimously  adopted.  One  of  those  '  Resolu 
tions  '  requested  him  to  write  to  the  President  of  Con 
gress,  and  to  earnestly  entreat  a  speedy  decision  on 
the  late  address  forwarded  by  a  committee  of  the 
army.  In  conformity  to  that  request,  Washington 
thus  addressed  that  high  functionary  : 

"  '  The  result  of  the  proceedings  of  the  grand  con 
vention  of  officers,  which  I  have  the  honor  of  enclos 
ing  to  your  excellency  for  the  inspection  of  Congress, 
will,  I  flatter  myself,  be  considered  as  the  last  glorious 
proof  of  patriotism  which  could  have  been  given  by 
men  who  aspired  to  the  distinction  of  a  patriot  army, 
and  will  not  only  confirm  their  claim  to  the  justice, 
but  will  increase  their  title  to  the  gratitude,  of  their 
country.  Having  seen  the  proceedings  on  the  part 
of  the  army  terminate  with  perfect  unanimity,  and  in 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  89 

a  manner  certainly  consonant  to  my  wishes  ;  being 
impressed  with  the  liveliest  sentiments  of  affection 
for  those  who  have  so  long,  so  patiently,  and  so  cheer 
fully  suffered  and  fought  under  my  immediate  direc 
tion  ;  having,  from  motives  of  justice,  duty,  and  grat 
itude,  spontaneously  offered  myself  as  an  advocate  for 
their  rights ;  and  having  been  requested  to  write  to 
your  excellency,  earnestly  entreating  the  most  speedy 
decision  of  Congress  upon  the  subjects  of  the  late  ad 
dress  from  the  army  to  that  honorable  body ;  it  only 
remains  for  me  to  perform  the  task  I  have  assumed, 
and  to  intercede  in  their  behalf,  as  I  now  do,  that  the 
sovereign  power  will  be  pleased  to  verify  the  predic 
tions  I  have  pronounced,  and  the  confidence  the  army 
has  reposed  in  the  justice  of  their  country. 

"  '  If,  besides  the  simple  payment  of  their  wages,  a 
further  compensation  is  not  due  to  the  sufferings  and 
sacrifices  of  the  officers,  then  have  I  been  mistaken 
indeed.  If  the  whole  army  have  not  merited  what 
ever  a  grateful  people  can  bestow,  then  have  I  been 
beguiled  by  prejudice,  and  built  opinion  on  the  basis 
of  error.  If  this  country  should  not,  in  the  end,  per 
form  everything  which  has  been  requested  in  the  late 
memorial  to  Congress,  then  will  my  belief  become 
vain,  and  the  hope  that  has  been  excited  void  of  foun 
dation.  And  if,  as  has  been  suggested  for  the  pur 
pose  of  inflaming  their  passions,  the  officers  of  the  army 
are  to  be  the  only  sufferers  by  the  revolution  ;  if,  retiring 
from  the  field,  they  are  to  grow  old  in  poverty,  wretched 
ness,  and  contempt ;  if  they  are  to  wade  through  the 
vile  mire  of  dependency,  and  owe  the  miserable  rem 
nant  of  that  life  to  charity,  which  has  hitherto  been  spent 
in  honor,  then  shall  I  have  learned  what  ingratitude 
is,  then  shall  I  have  realized  a  tale  which  will  embit- 


£0  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

ter  every  moment  of  my  future  life.  But  I  am  under 
no  such  apprehensions.  A  country,  rescued  by  their 
arms  from  impending  ruin,  will  never  leave  unpaid 
the  debt  of  gratitude.' 

"  Do  not  believe,  my  dear  Lakanal,  that  there  was 
not  in  these  incidents  a  great  danger  to  the  republi 
can  institutions  to  be  established.  As  a  proof  of  the 
temper  of  the  army,  let  me  tell  you  that,  lately, 
about  three  hundred  soldiers  of  the  Pennsylvania 
line,  with  beat  of  drum  and  fixed  bayonets,  marched 
to  the  State  House  where  Congress  and  the  Supreme 
Executive  Council  were  in  session  ;  that  placing  sen 
tinels  at  every  door  to  prevent  egress,  they  next  sent 
in  a  written  message  to  the  President  and  Council, 
threatening  military  violence  if  their  demands  were 
not  complied  with  in  twenty  minutes.  Outraged  at 
being  thus  surrounded  and  blockaded  for  several 
hours  by  an  armed  soldiery,  Congress  adjourned  to 
meet  again  within  a  few  days  at  Princeton,  in  New  Jer 
sey,  and  in  the  meantime  sent  information  to  Wash 
ington  of  this  mutinous  outbreak,  which  was  soon 
quelled  by  him.  You  see,  my  dear  friend,  that  armies 
are  the  same  everywhere,  in  every  age,  and  in  every 
country.  An  army  will  never  hesitate  between  their 
leader  and  a  legislative  body,  be  it  called  Parliament, 
Senate,  or  Congress.  But  this  Washington  is  a  hero 
of  Plutarch,  or  rather  far  above  all  those  great  men 
whose  memories  have  been  handed  down,  embalmed 
in  the  immortal  pages  of  the  Greek  author.  But  will 
there  ever  be  another  Washington  ?  And  should  an 
American  army  again  offer  the  crown  to  their  chief, 
will  it  be  refused  ?  " 

At  last  Washington  was  informed,  in  the  spring  of 
1783,  that  a  general  treaty  of  peace  had  been  signed 


A  USER T  D UBA  YET.  gi 

in  Paris  on  the  2Oth  of  January,  and  that  the  inde 
pendence  of  the  United  States  had  been  secured. 
On  that  solemn  occasion,  that  great  man,  great  be 
yond  all  other  men,  thus  addressed  the  governors  of 
the  different  States :  "  We  are  the  sole  lords  and  pro 
prietors  of  a  vast  tract  of  continent,  comprehending 
all  the  various  soils  and  climates  of  the  world,  and 
abounding  with  all  the  necessaries  and  conveniences 
of  life ;  and  the  acknowledged  possessors  of  absolute 
freedom  and  independency.  This  is  the  time  of  our 
political  probation ;  this  is  the  moment  when  the 
eyes  of  the  world  are  turned  upon  us ;  this  is  the  mo 
ment  to  establish  or  ruin  our  national  character  for 
ever.  This  is  the  favorable  moment  to  give  such  a 
tone  to  the  Federal  Government  as  will  enable  it  to 
answer  the  ends  of  its  institution  ;  or  this  may  be  the 
moment  for  relaxing  the  powers  of  the  Union,  anni 
hilating  the  cement  of  the  confederation,  and  expos 
ing  us  to  become  the  sport  of  European  politics, 
which  may  play  one  State  against  another,  to  prevent 
their  growing  importance,  and  to  serve  their  own  in 
terested  purposes." 

On  the  disbanding  of  the  army,  which  soon  follow 
ed  the  conclusion  of  the  treaty  of  peace,  Washington 
issued  a  proclamation,  which  was  a  farewell  address  to 
his  beloved  and  wrell-tried  companions  in  arms.  It 
was  truly  antique  in  its  grand  simplicity.  "  May 
ample  justice,"  he  said,  "be  done  to  you,  and  may 
the  choicest  of  Heaven's  favors,  both  here  and  here 
after,  attend  those  who,  under  the  divine  auspices, 
have  secured  innumerable  blessings  for  others.  With 
these  wishes  and  this  benediction,  your  commander- 
in-chief  is  about  to  retire  from  service.  The  curtain 
of  separation  will  soon  be  drawn,  and  the  military 
scene  to  him  will  be  closed  forever." 


92  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

Captain  Aubcrt  Dubayet  witnessed  with  intense 
interest  all  the  events  which  terminated  the  American 
revolution,  and  thus  delineated  some  of  the  most  im 
pressive  : 

DUBAYET   TO   LAKANAL. 

"  I  was  present  at  a  most  affecting  scene — the  dis 
banding  of  the  American  army.  No  description  of 
mine  can  give  you  an  adequate  idea  of  the  painful 
circumstances  under  which  it  took  place.  Only  fancy 
both  officers  and  soldiers,  obedient  to  the  advice  of 
their  idolized  commander-in-chief,  and  soothed  per 
haps  by,  but  certainly  not  relying  on,  the  empty  '  Re 
solves  '  of  Congress  to  pay  and  compensate  them  in 
such  manner  as  the  ability  of  the  United  States 
would  permit,  nobly  consenting,  although  long  unac 
customed  to  the  affairs  of  private  life,  to  be  turned 
loose  on  the  world  to  starve,  and  to  become  the  prey 
to  vulture  speculators.  Never  can  that  melancholy 
day  be  forgotten  by  me — a  foreigner  though  I  am — 
when  I  saw  friends,  companions  for  seven  long  years 
in  joy  and  in  sorrow,  torn  asunder  without  the  hope 
of  meeting  again  and  with  only  the  terrible  prospect 
of  a  miserable  existence  in  the  future.  And  they  had 
arms  in  their  hands,  and  they  were  masters  of  the 
situation  !  But  they  had  a  Washington  to  deal  with, 
and  they  were  conquered  by  his  moral  sublimity ! 

"  It  has  also  been  my  good  fortune,  my  dear  Lak- 
anal,  to  witness  how  that  august  personage  closed  his 
military  career  and  resigned  into  the  hands  of  Con 
gress  the  almost  dictatorial  authority  with  which  he 
had  been  clothed.  On  the  2Oth  of  December,  he  had 
written  to  the  President  of  that  body,  requesting  to 
know  in  what  manner  it  would  be  most  proper  for 
him  to  offer  his  resignation.  '  In  a  solemn  audience 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  93 

worthy  of  the  occasion/  was  the  reply,  and  the  23d 
of  that  month  was  selected  for  that  purpose.  At 
twelve  o'clock,  on  that  day,  every  inch  of  the  floor  of 
the  hall  of  Congress  which  could  be  spared  by  the 
members,  and  the  surrounding  galleries  ordinarily  oc 
cupied  by  the  public,  were  invaded  by  an  eager  crowd 
of  ladies,  by  Federal  and  State  functionaries,  and 
other  distinguished  men.  I  remarked  that  the  mem 
bers  of  Congress  were  seated  and  had  their  hats  on, 
when  all  the  spectators  stood  up  and  were  uncovered. 
On  my  inquiring  for  the  reason  of  it,  I  was  told  that 
it  was  because  they  represented  the  sovereignty  of 
the  Union. 

"  Washington  entered,  and  I  assure  you  that  there 
was  in  him  a  more  commanding  majesty  than  I  can 
suppose  to  exist  in  any  royal  face.  He  was  conducted 
by  the  Secretary  of  Congress,  and  took  his  seat  in  a 
chair  appointed  for  him.  After  a  brief  pause,  during 
which  the  whole  assembly  seemed  to  be  awed  into 
the  deepest  silence  and  the  most  breathless  emotion, 
the  President  said :  '  General,  the  United  States,  in 
Congress  assembled,  are  prepared  to  receive  your 
communication.' 

"  Washington  rose,  and,  with  an  imposing  dignity 
of  which  it  is  impossible  to  give  you  any  idea,  re 
viewed  briefly  the  great  events  which  had  taken  place, 
congratulated  Congress  and  the  country  on  their  suc 
cessful  issue,  offered  his  thanks  for  the  assistance 
which  had  been  so  patriotically  given  him  by  all  those 
who  had  co-operated  with  him  in  the  execution  of 
the  trust  committed  to  his  hands,  and  concluded  in 
these  words:  'I  consider  it  an  indispensable  duty  to 
close  this  last  solemn  act  of  my  official  life,  by  com 
mending  the  interests  of  our  dearest  country  to  the 


94 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


protection  of  Almighty  God ;  and  those  who  have 
the  superintendence  of  them,  to  His  holy  keeping. 
Having  now  finished  the  work  assigned  to  me,  I  re 
tire  from  the  great  theatre  of  action  ;  and,  bidding  an 
affectionate  farewell  to  this  august  body,  under  whose 
orders  I  have  long  acted,  I  here  offer  my  commission, 
and  take  my  leave  of  all  the  employments  of  public 
life.' 

"  The  whole  assembly  was  melted  into  tears,  my 
dear  Lakanal,  and  it  was  with  a  voice  almost  choked 
with  emotion,  that  the  President,  after  having  receiv 
ed  the  tendered  commission,  attempted  to  bear  testi 
mony,  in  adequate  terms,  to  the  invaluable  services 
of  that  illustrious  man.  He  closed  his  address  in 
these  words :  '  You  retire,  General,  from  the  theatre 
of  action  with  the  blessings  of  your  fellow-citizens ; 
but  the  glory  of  your  virtues  will  not  terminate  with 
your  military  command  ;  it  will  continue  to  animate 
the  remotest  ages.' 

"  Washington  arrived  at  Mount  Vernon  on  Christ 
mas  eve,  where  he  was  welcomed  to  his  cherished 
home  with  bonfires  and  the  warm  greetings  of  his 
friends  and  neighbors.  Shortly  after,  he  wrote  to  the 
Governor  of  New  York  :  '  The  scene  is  at  last  closed  ; 
I  feel  myself  eased  of  a  load  of  public  care.  I  hope 
to  spend  the  remainder  of  my  days  in  cultivating  the 
affections  of  good  men,  and  in  the  practice  of  the 
domestic  virtues.' " 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

WASHINGTON    AT     MOUNT    VERNON  —  AUBERT    DU- 
BAYET   BECOMES   HIS   GUEST. 

WHEN  the  French  forces  were  recalled  after  the 
conclusion  of  peace,  Aubert  Dubayet  obtained  a  fur 
lough  from  his  Government.  His  object  was  to  so 
journ  some  time  in  America,  to  see  what  use  the  for 
mer  colonies  of  Great  Britain  would  make  of  their 
independence,  and  also  to  sell  his  property  in  Louis-, 
iana,  with  a  view  of  settling  forever  in  France,  the 
country  of  his  ancestors.  He  was  on  a  visit  to  Gen 
eral  Knox,  when  the  latter  received  and  showed  to 
him  an  interesting  letter  from  General  Washington 
written  from  Mount  Vernon,  and  from  which  he  was 
permitted  to  take  the  following  extract :  "  Strange  as 
it  may  seem,"  wrote  the  liberator  of  his  country  to 
his  companion-in-arms,  "  it  is  nevertheless  true  that 
it  was  not  until  very  lately  I  could  get  the  better  of 
my  usual  custom  of  ruminating,  as  soon  as  I  waked  in 
the  morning,  on  the  business  of  the  ensuing  day ;  and 
of  my  surprise  at  finding,  after  revolving  many  things 
in  my  mind,  that  I  was  no  longer  a  public  man,  nor 
had  anything  to  do  with  public  transactions.  I  feel 
now,  however,  as  I  conceive  a  weary  traveler  must 
do,  who,  after  treading  many  a  weary  step  with  a 
heavy  burthen  on  his  shoulders,  is  eased  of  the  latter, 
having  reached  the  haven  to  which  all  the  former 
were  directed,  and  from  his  house-top  is  looking  back 

(95) 


96 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


and  tracing  with  an  eager  eye  the  meanders  by  which 
he  escaped  the  quicksands  and  mires  which  lay  in  his 
way,  and  into  which  none  but  the  all-powerful  Guide 
and  Dispenser  of  human  events  could  have  prevented 
his  falling." 

At  about  the  same  time  Lafayette  received  from 
the  same  source  a  letter  which  fully  harmonized  with 
the  above  expressed  sentiments :  "  Free  from  the 
bustle  of  camp  and  the  busy  scenes  of  public  life,"  wrote 
Washington,  "  I  am  solacing  myself  with  those  tran 
quil  enjoyments  of  which  the  soldier,  who  is  ever  in  the 
pursuit  of  fame — the  statesman,  whose  watchful  days 
and  sleepless  nights  are  spent  in  devising  schemes  to 
promote  the  welfare  of  his  own,  perhaps  the  ruin  of 
other  countries,  as  if  the  globe  was  insufficient  for  us 
all — and  the  courtier,  who  is  always  watching  the 
countenance  of  his  prince — can  have  very  little  con 
ception.  I  have  not  only  retired  from  all  public  em 
ployments,  but  I  am  retiring  within  myself,  and  shall 
be  able  to  view  the  solitary  walk,  and  to  tread  the 
paths  of  private  life  with  heartfelt  satisfaction.  En 
vious  of  none,  I  am  determined  to  be  pleased  with 
all ;  and  this,  my  dear  friend,  being  the  order  of  my 
march,  I  will  move  gently  down  the  stream  of  life  un 
til  I  sleep  with  my  fathers." 

In  July,  1785,  Aubert  Dubayet  wrote  to  Tintin 
Calandro :  "  My  dear  friend,  although  a  republican  is 
as  hateful  to  you  as  water  is  to  a  mad  dog,  there  is 
one  in  whom  you  can  not  but  take  an  interest,  be 
cause  he  is  an  honor  to  the  human  race,  and  it  is  of 
him,  therefore,  that  I  shall  speak  to  you  on  the  pres 
ent  occasion.  Of  course,  you  understand  me  to  mean 
General  Washington,  without  my  naming  him.  I 
have  the  supreme  honor  of  being  a  guest  at  his 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  97 

house  on  the  strength  of  a  letter  given  to  me  by 
General  Knox.  In  the  simple  undress  of  private  life 
he  appears  to  me  more  admirable  than  when  clothed 
in  the  purple  mantle  of  the  dictator.  To-day  he  said 
to  me :  '  The  more  I  am  acquainted  with  agricultural 
affairs,  the  better  I  am  pleased  with  them,  in  so  much 
that  I  can  nowhere  find  so  much  satisfaction  as  in 
those  innocent  and  useful  pursuits.  While  indulging 
these  feelings  I  am  led  to  reflect  how  much  more  de 
lightful  to  an  undebauched  mind  is  the  task  of  mak 
ing  improvements  on  the  earth,  than  all  the  vainglory 
that  can  be  acquired  by  ravaging  it  by  the  most  un 
interrupted  career  of  conquest.  How  pitiful,  in  the 
age  of  reason  and  religion,  is  that  false  ambition 
which  desolates  the  world  with  fire  and  sword  for 
the  purpose  of  conquest  and  fame,  compared  to  the 
milder  virtues  of  making  our  neighbors  and  our  fel 
low-men  as  happy  as  their  frail  convictions  and  per 
ishable  natures  will  permit  them  to  be  ! '  I  rode  with 
him  several  times  over  his  different  farms,  which  ex 
tend  over  an  area  of  four  thousand  acres.  He  seems 
to  think  of  nothing  but  improving  his  grounds. 
Now  he  talks  of  curious  and  exotic  plants  which 
have  been  promised  to  him,  now  of  grape-vines 
which  he  expects  from  France — but  of  public  affairs, 
not  a  word.  He  keeps  a  minute  diary  of  what  he 
does  as  a  farmer.  In  the  spring  of  the  year  he  was 
diligently  employed  in  preparations  to  improve  his 
groves  and  shrubbery;  on  the  loth  of  January,  he 
noted  that  the  white  thorn  was  full  in  berry ;  on  the 
2Oth,  he  began  to  clear  the  undergrowth  of  his  pine 
forest ;  in  February  he  transplanted  ivy  under  the 
walls  of  the  garden  ;  in  March  he  was  planting  hem 
lock  trees  —  a  beautiful  species  of  American  ever- 
5 


98  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

green ;  in  April  he  was  sowing  holly  berries  in  drills. 
He  called  my  attention  to  the  fact,  that,  of  all  the 
trees  fitted  for  shade  in  pasture-land,  the  locust,  ma 
ple,  black  mulberry,  black  walnut,  black  gum,  dog 
wood,  and  sassafras  were  those  which,  according  to 
his  observation,  did  not  materially  injure  the  grass 
beneath  them.  He  delights  in  ornamental  cultiva 
tion  ;  he  rides  long  distances  in  quest  of  young  elms, 
ash-trees,  white  thorn,  crab-apples,  willows,  and  lilacs  ; 
he  lays  out  winding  paths  and  plants  trees  and  shrubs 
along  them.  Now  he  sows  acorns  and  buckeye-nuts 
selected  by  himself  with  peculiar  care  ;  now  he  opens 
vistas  through  the  pine  groves ;  and  now  he  twines 
round  the  columns  of  his  mansion  scarlet  honey 
suckles.  I  really  think  he  takes  more  interest  in  con 
versing  with  his  gardener  than  with  anybody  else. 

"  The  world  will  hardly  believe,  my  dear  Tintin 
Calandro,  that  the  life  of  General  Washington  is  a 
sort  of  a  Virgilian  idyl,  in  which  blooded  horses,  cat 
tle,  sheep,  bees,  and  the  like  rural  things  perform  a 
conspicuous  part.  The  other  day  he  stopped  before 
a  group  of  young  horse-chestnuts,  gazed  at  them  with 
a  kindling  eye,  and  said  to  me  with  an  unusual  de 
gree  of  animation :  '  Look  at  these  trees,  my  young 
friend ;  they  make  me  young  too,  for  they  are  from 
Westmoreland,  my  native  county,  and  the  haunt  of 
my  school-boy  days.  They  were  sent  to  me  by  Col 
onel  Lee — he  whom  we  call,  as  you  know,  Light- 
Horse  Harry'  He  has  retained  his  passion  for  hunt 
ing,  and  talks  much  of  stocking  his  grounds  with  En 
glish  deer.  Yesterday,  having  accompanied  him  in 
one  of  his  walks,  we  came  upon  two  of  his  negroes 
who  were  struggling  very  hard  and  unsuccessfully  to 
remove  a  large  log  of  wood  which  was  in  the  way. 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  og 

Washington  took  off  his  coat,  and,  using  his  shoul 
ders,  helped  them  to  accomplish  their  task.  I  assure 
you,  my  dear  friend,  that  he  appeared  to  me  on  that 
occasion  more  grand  than  Louis  XIV.  would  at  Ver 
sailles  with  all  his  peacock  court  at  his  heels.  Don't 
threaten  to  eat  me  up  in  your  anger,  I  beg  you  ! 

"  Now  that  you  have,  as  I  suppose,  curbed  the  rising 
indignation  of  your  loyalty,  I  will  reward  you  for  your 
forbearance  by  giving  you  further  details  on  the  pri 
vate  life  of  that  illustrious  personage.  It  is  in  human 
nature  to  delight  in  being  informed  how  the  immor 
tals  sneeze,  or  cough.  Know,  then,  that  the  active  life 
of  Washington  begins  before  dawn.  Much  of  his  cor 
respondence,  which  is  enormous,  is  dispatched  before 
breakfast,  which  takes  place  at  half-past  seven.  After 
breakfast  he  mounts  his  horse,  which  always  stands 
ready  at  the  door,  and  rides  out  to  different  parts  of 
his  estate,  as  he  used  to  do  to  the  various  parts  of  the 
camp,  to  see  that  all  was  right  at  the  outposts,  and 
every  one  at  his  duty.  At  half-past  two  he  dines,  and 
there  is  a  social  gathering  in  the  evening  at  tea,  which 
is  a  sort  of  supper.  If  there  is  no  company,  he  writes 
until  dark,  or,  if  pressed  by  business,  until  nine  o'clock ; 
otherwise,  he  amuses  himself  with  a  game  of  whist,  or 
reads — chiefly  books  on  farming  and  gardening.  One 
of  General  Washington's  guests  at  present  is  a  Mr. 
Elkanah  Watson,  a  very  intelligent  gentleman,  who 
brought  letters  of  introduction  from  General  Greene 
and  Colonel  Fitzgerald.  This  evening  he  was  in  my 
room,  and  read  to  me  a  home  picture  of  Washington 
in  his  retirement.  It  is  so  graphic  and  so  true  that  I 
transcribe  a  part  of  it  for  your  benefit :  ' 

" '  I  trembled  with  awe,'  he  said,  '  as  I  came  into  the 
presence  of  this  great  man.  I  found  him  at  table  with 


100  A  UBERT  DUBA  YET. 

Mrs.  Washington  and  his  private  family,  and  was  re 
ceived  with  the  native  dignity  and  with  the  urbanity 
so  peculiarly  combined  in  the  character  of  a  soldier 
and  an  eminent  private  gentleman.  He  soon  put  me 
at  my  ease,  by  unbending  in  a  free  and  affable  con 
versation.  The  cautious  reserve  which  wisdom  and 
policy  dictated,  whilst  engaged  in  rearing  the  glorious 
fabric  of  our  independence,  was  evidently  the  result 
of  consummate  prudence,  and  not  characteristic  of  his 
nature.  I  observed  a  peculiarity  in  his  smile,  which 
seemed  to  illuminate  his  eye  ;  his  whole  countenance 
beamed  with  intelligence,  while  it  commanded  confi 
dence  and  respect. 

"'I  found  him  calm  and  benignant  in  the  domestic 
circle;  revered  r.nd  beloved  by  all  around  him  ;  agree 
ably  social  without  ostentation ;  delighting  in  anec 
dotes  and  adventures;  without  assumption;  his  do 
mestic  arrangements  harmonious  and  systematic.  His 
servants  seemed  to  watch  his  eye,  and  to  anticipate 
his  very  wish  ;  hence  a  look  was  equivalent  to  a  com 
mand.  His  servant  Billy,  the  faithful  companion  of 
his  military  career,  was  always  at  his  side.  Smiling 
content  animated  and  beamed  on  every  countenance 
in  his  presence. 

"'In  the  evening  I  sat  conversing  for  a  full  hour 
with  him  after  all  the  family  had  retired,  expecting  to 
hear  him  fight  over  some  of  his  battles ;  but  I  was 
disappointed,  for  he  modestly  waived  all  allusions  to 
the  events  in  which  he  had  acted  so  glorious  and  con 
spicuous  a  part.  Much  of  his  conversation  had  refer 
ence  to  the  interior  country,  and  to  the  opening  of  the 
navigation  of  the  Potomac  by  canals  and  locks,  at  the 
Seneca,  the  Great  and  Little  Falls.  His  mind  seemed 
to  be  deeply  absorbed  by  that  object,  then  in  earnest 
contemplation. 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  IOi 

"'I  had  taken  a  severe  cold  in  the  course  of  my 
journey,  and  coughed  excessively.  The  general  pressed 
me  to  take  some  remedies,  but  I  declined.  After  re 
tiring  for  the  night,  my  coughing  increased.  When 
some  time  had  elapsed,  the  door  of  my  room  was  gently 
opened ;  and,  on  drawing  my  bed  curtains,  I  beheld 
Washington  himself  standing  at  my  bedside  with  a 
bowl  of  hot  tea  in  his  hand.  I  was  mortified  and  dis 
tressed  beyond  expression.  This  little  incident,  occur 
ring  in  common  life  with  an  ordinary  man,  would  not 
have  been  noticed  ;  but,  as  a  trait  of  the  benevolence 
and  private  virtue  of  Washington,  deserves  to  be  re 
corded.' 

"  Having  become,  my  good  Tintin,  acquainted  with 
a  learned  bishop,  who  has  lately  passed  through  Mount 
Vernon,  and  who  has  long  known  General  Washing 
ton,  I  expressed  to  him  how  much  I  was  struck  with 
the  unassuming  manners  of  a  man  who  filled  such  a 
space  in  the  world's  eye.  He  replied  :  'I  know  no  one 
who  is  so  carefully  guarded  against  the  discoursing  of 
himself,  or  of  his  acts,  or  of  anything  that  pertains  to 
him ;  and  it  has  occasionally  occurred  to  me  when  in 
his  company,  that  if  a  stranger  to  his  person  were  pres 
ent,  he  would  never  have  known  from  anything  said 
by  him  that  he  was  conscious  of  having  distinguished 
himself.' 

"  Washington,  like  all  those  who  have  a  noble  nat 
ure,  and  like  Him  who  was  of  a  divine  one,  is  fond  of 
little  children,  and  apt  to  unbend  with  them.  He  is 
pleased  to  have  them  come  to  him.  A  charming  young 
lady,  named  Miss  Custis,  who  is  a  member  of  his 
family,  has  said  to  me :  '  I  have  sometimes  made  him 
laugh  most  heartily  from  sympathy  with  my  joyous 
and  extravagant  spirits,  although  he  is  habitually  a 
silent  and  thoughtful  man.  He  speaks  little,  gener- 


!  02  A  UBET  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

ally;  never  of  himself.  I  never  heard  him  relate  a 
single  act  of  his  life  during  the  war.  I  have  often  seen 
him  perfectly  abstracted,  his  lips  moving;  but  no 
sound  was  perceptible.' 

"  Hearty  laughter,  however,  my  dear  Tintin  Calan- 
dro,  is  rare  with  Washington,  although  he  is  said  to 
have  relaxed  much  of  his  thoughtful  gravity  of  de 
meanor  since  he  has  no  longer  to  answer  on  the  bat 
tlefield  for  the  fate  of  a  nation.  A  few  hilarious  ex 
plosions  are  related,  precisely  because  they  have  so 
seldom  occurred.  They  were  the  result  of  some  sud 
den  and  extremely  ludicrous  surprises.  His  general 
habit  may  be  described  as  a  calm  seriousness  easily 
softening  into  a  benevolent  smile.  There  is  no  doubt 
that  he  is  generally  approached  and  treated  with  rev 
erential  awe.  There  are  exceptions,  however,  and  I 
will  mention  one.  Colonel  Henry  Lee — '  Light  Horse 
Harry' — who  is  a  privileged  favorite  with  Washing 
ton,  and  who  is  reported  to  take  more  liberties  with 
him  than  anybody  else,  dropped  in  yesterday.  Wash 
ington,  at  dinner,  mentioned  his  being  in  want  of  car 
riage  horses,  and  asked  Lee  if  he  knew  where  he  could 
get  a  pair. 

"  '  I  have  a  fine  pair,  general,'  replied  Lee,  '  but  you 
can  not  get  them.' 

"  '  Why  not  ? ' 

" '  Because  you  will  never  pay  more  than  half  price 
for  anything;  and  I  must  have  full  price  for  my 
horses.' 

"  This  bantering  reply  set  Mrs.  Washington  laugh 
ing  ;  and  her  parrot,  perched  beside  her,  joined  in  the 
laugh.  The  general  took  this  familiar  attack  upon  his 
dignity  in  good  part.  'Ah  !  Lee,  you  are  a  funny  fel 
low,'  said  he  ;  '  see,  that  bird  is  laughing  at  you.' 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  1 03 

"I  must  mention  that  this  reverential  awe  which 
his  deeds  and  elevated  position  threw  around  this 
great  man,  is  reported  by  those  familiar  with  his  dis 
position,  to  be  a  source  of  serious  annoyance  to  him 
in  private  life,  especially  when  he  perceives  its  effect 
upon  the  young  and  gay.  I  had  an  instance  of  it  last 
evening.  Mrs.  Washington  had  invited  to  a  private  and 
unceremonious  dancing  party  the  young  men  and  girls 
of  the  neighborhood.  All  were  enjoying  themselves 
with  the  utmost  glee,  when  Washington  entered  the 
room.  The  moment  his  majestic  figure  was  seen,  the 
buoyant  mirth  was  checked  ;  the  dance  lost  its  anima 
tion  ;  every  face  became  grave ;  every  tongue  was 
silent.  He  remained  for  a  time,  endeavoring  to  en 
gage  in  cheerful  conversation  with  some  of  the  young 
people  and  to  break  the  spell.  When  he  found  that 
it  was  in  vain,  I  saw  an  expression  of  sadness  steal 
over  his  face,  and  he  retired  to  the  company  of  the 
elders  in  an  adjoining  room,  expressing  his  regret  that 
his  presence  should  operate  as  such  a  damper.  After 
a  little  while,  light  laughter  and  happy  voices  again 
resounded  from  the  ball-room ;  upon  which  he  rose 
cautiously,  approached  on  tiptoe  the  door,  which  was 
ajar,  and  there  stood  for  some  time  a  delighted  spec 
tator  of  the  youthful  revelry.  How  amiable  and  char 
acteristic  of  what  there  is  in  that  big  soul !  Will  you 
not  love  such  a  man,  O  Tintin  Calandro,  notwith 
standing  the  strength  and  the  eccentricity  of  your 
prejudices ;  and,  were  you  here,  would  you  not,  on 
your  wondrous  violin,  O  sublime  musician,  perform 
for  him  with  as  much  inspired  enthusiasm  as  you  do 
for  the  princess  de  Lamballe  and  the  majesties  of 
France  ? 

"  On  my  expressing  my  intense  admiration  of  such 


1 04  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

a  character  to  Mr.  Lear,  his  secretary,  that  gentleman 
replied  :  '  Surely  I  am  not  astonished  at  your  feelings, 
for  after  ten  years'  residence  in  this  family  on  the  most 
confidential  footing,  I  must  say  that  General  Wash 
ington  is,  I  believe,  almost  the  only  man  of  an  exalted 
character,  who  does  not  lose  some  part  of  his  respec 
tability  by  an  intimate  acquaintance.  I  have  never 
found  a  single  thing  that  could  lessen  my  respect  for 
him.  A  complete  knowledge  of  his  honesty,  upright 
ness,  and  candor  in  all  his  private  transactions,  has 
sometimes  led  me  to  think  him  more  than  a  man."* 

Aubert  Dubayet  spent  a  week  under  the  roof  of 
Washington,  and  used,  in  the  subsequent  years  of  his 
life,  to  speak  of  that  circumstance  as  the  event  in  it 
which  he  cherished  and  valued  the  most.  He  said 
that  it  had  purified  him  from  most  of  his  earthly 
dross,  and  that  he  felt  it  was  not  in  vain  that  he  had 
been  in  contact  with  human  perfection.  From  Mount 
Vernon  he  traveled  over  the  Thirteen  States,  as  he 
had  determined  not  to  return  to  Europe  before  mak 
ing  himself  thoroughly  acquainted  with  their  re 
sources,  and  particularly  with  the  distinguished  men 
whom  they  contained,  and  who  would  probably  be 
leaders  of  their  destinies.  He  visited  James  Warren, 
who  had  formerly  been  President  of  the  Provisional 
Congress  of  Massachusetts.  On  that  occasion,  Au 
bert  Dubayet,  having  spoken  of  the  Arcadian  felicity 
which  he  had  observed  at  Mount  Vernon,  was  greatly 
surprised  when  his  host  said  to  him  :  "  You  have  de- 


*  Those  who  have  read  W.  living's  admirable  "Life  of 
Washington,"  need  not  be  told  how  much  I  am  indebted  to 
him  in  my  delineation  of  the  character  of  that  illustrious  per 
sonage.  Not  being  able  to  do  as  well,  I  have  in  more  than 
one  instance  borrowed  his  very  words. 


A  UBERT  DUB  A  YET. 


105 


ceived  yourself.  Washington's  mind  is,  not  without 
cause,  full  of  anxieties.  Although  it  has  been  his  in 
tention  to  bid  farewell  to  public  affairs,  yet  he  can 
not  but  watch  with  keen  solicitude  the  working 
together  of  the  several  parts  of  the  great  political 
machinery  to  the  construction  of  which  he  has  so 
powerfully  contributed.  Confederacies  have  never 
been  harmonious  and  long-lived,  and  ours  is  unfor 
tunately  very  weak  in  its  original  constitution.  We 
have  put  up  in  haste  a  house  to  shelter  us,  but  it  is 
ill  jointed,  and  the  timbers  are  cracking  on  all  sides. 
Washington  sees  it ;  we  all  see  it.  The  bonds  which 
kept  us  together  under  the  pressure  of  external 
danger,  have  been  relaxed  by  the  gentle  hand  of 
peace.  We  are  not  a  nation,  but  thirteen  petty  sov 
ereignties  which  will  soon  quarrel  like  Kilkenny  cats. 
See  in  what  condition  are  our  finances.  Our  con 
federate  debts  exceed  forty  millions  of  dollars,  an 
enormous  one  for  our  present  resources.  Congress 
has  devised  a  system  of  credit  for  the  extinction  of 
that  debt  and  for  the  current  yearly  expenditure  of 
the  General  Government.  Congress  might  as  well 
have  legislated  for  the  moon,  for  it  has  no  coercive 
power.  Some  of  the  States  have  assented  to  those 
provisions,  but  neglect  to  act  accordingly;  others 
have  rejected  them.  Each  member  of  the  Confeder 
acy  consults  its  local  interests  and  prejudices,  and 
ignores  those  of  the  whole.  The  steeple  of  each  vil 
lage  towers  higher  than  the  cupola  of  the  national 
capitol,  whilst  it  should  be  the  reverse.  As  to  those 
treaty  stipulations  on  the  observance  of  which  our 
credit  abroad,  our  honor  and  our  good  faith  must 
rest,  they  are  slighted,  West,  North,  and  South,  ac 
cording  to  the  dictates  of  sectional  interests,  and 
5* 


1 06  A  UBER  T  D  UflA  YE  T. 

sometimes  openly  violated.  The  States  seem  to  have 
no  appreciation  of  their  collective  obligations." 

"  O  God  !  "  exclaimed  Dubayet,  "  is  it  possible  that 
you  have  already  come  to  this,  and  does  General 
Washington  concur  in  this  dismal  view  of  your 
affairs?" 

The  Massachusetts  statesman  drew  from  his  coat 
pocket  a  letter  in  the  well-known  handwriting  of 
Washington,  and  read  to  his  visitor  the  following 
passage : 

"  The  Confederation  appears  to  me  to  be  little 
more  than  a  shadow  without  the  substance,  and  Con 
gress  a  nugatory  body ;  their  ordinances  being  little 
attended  to.  To  me  it  is  a  solecism  in  politics ;  in 
deed,  it  is  one  of  the  most  extraordinary  things  in 
nature,  that  we  should  confederate  as  a  nation,  and 
yet  be  afraid  to  give  the  rulers  of  that  nation  (who  are 
creatures  of  our  own  making,  appointed  for  a  limited 
and  short  duration,  and  who  are  amenable  for  every 
action  and  may  be  recalled  at  any  moment,  and  are 
subject  to  all  the  evils  which  they  may  be  instru 
mental  in  producing)  sufficient  powers  to  order  and 
direct  the  affairs  of  the  same.  By  such  policy  as  this 
the  wheels  of  government  are  clogged,  our  brightest 
prospects  blasted,  and  that  high  expectation  which 
was  entertained  of  us  by  the  wondering  world,  turned 
into  disappointment ;  and  from  the  high  ground  on 
which  we  stood,  we  are  descending  into  the  vale  of 
confusion  and  darkness." 

Aubert  Dubayet  was  shocked  and  grieved  to  the 
core  of  his  soul.  His  rose-colored  dreams  were  as 
suming  the  dark  hues  of  a  nightmare.  In  a  fit  of 
despondency  he  shut  himself  up  in  his  room,  and 
thus  wrote  to  Lakanal : 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  !  07 

"  Tell  me  no  more  of  revolutions  and  reforms,  my 
dear  friend,  you  who,  in  conspiracy  with  the  ghosts 
of  Greek  and  Roman  patriots,  are  always  planning 
the  overthrow  of  hoary  institutions,  to  replace  them 
with  your  pretended  improvements,  born  out  of  the 
delusive  creed  of  human  progress  and  perfectibility. 
Here  has  been  a  successful  revolution,  in  a  virgin 
country,  where  there  are  no  time-cemented  obstacles 
in  the  way  of  contemplated  innovations  and  experi 
ments — a  revolution  of  yesterday ;  and  to-day,  what  is 
the  result  ?  From  the  high  ground  upon  which  we  stood, 
says  the  hero  of  that  revolution,  we  are  descending 
into  the  vale  of  confusion  and  darkness"  and  he  related 
to  his  friend  all  that  had  passed  between  James  War 
ren  and  himself. 

From  Boston  Aubert  Dubayet  returned  to  New 
York,  where  he  learned  that  Washington  was  ear 
nestly  advocating  a  stronger  form  of  government. 
To  one  of  the  most  influential  men  of  the  epoch,  the 
general  had  written  :  "  I  have  ever  been  a  friend  to 
adequate  powers  in  Congress,  without  which  it  is 
evident  to  me  we  never  shall  establish  a  national 
character,  or  be  considered  as  on  a  respectable  foot 
ing  by  the  powers  of  Europe.  We  are  either  a  united 
people  under  one  head  and  for  federal  purposes,  or 
we  are  thirteen  independent  sovereignties,  eternally 
counteracting  each  other.  If  the  former,  whatever 
such  a  majority  of  the  States  as  the  constitution 
points  out,  conceive  to  be  for  the  benefit  of  the  whole, 
should,  in  my  humble  opinion,  be  submitted  to  by 
the  minority.  I  can  foresee  no  evil  greater  than  dis 
union,  than  the  unreasonable  jealousies  (I  say  unrea 
sonable,  because  I  would  have  a  proper  jealousy  al 
ways  awake,  and  the  United  States  on  the  watch  to 


1 08  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

prevent  individual  States  from  infracting  the  consti 
tution  with  impunity)  which  are  constantly 'poisoning 
our  minds  and  filling  them  with  imaginary  evils  for 
the  prevention  of  real  ones." 

Washington  did  not  seem  to  entertain  the  most 
distant  apprehension  of  the  usurpation  of  power  by 
the  Federal  Government,  nor  did  he  even  seem  to 
conceive  the  possibility  of  such  an  event. 


CHAPTER   IX. 

REBELLIOUS  INSURRECTION  IN  MASSACHUSETTS — 
ADOPTION  OF  A  NEW  FORM  OF  GOVERNMENT 
FOR  THE  UNITED  STATES — VIEWS  AND  APPRE 
HENSIONS  OF  STATESMEN  ON  THE  SUBJECT — 
DUBAYET  RETURNS  TO  FRANCE. 

IN  New  York  Aubert  Dubayet  resumed  his  cor 
respondence  with  Lakanal.  "  I  have  had  the  good 
luck,"  he  wrote,  "  to  be  introduced  to  John  Jay,  one 
of  the  brightest  luminaries  of  the  revolution,  and  now 
secretary  of  foreign  affairs.  He  is  also  very  uneasy 
as  to  the  duration  and  vitality  of  this  new  republican 
form  of  government.  Start  not  in  dismay,  dear  friend 
of  mine.  '  Our  affairs,'  he  said,  'seem  to  lead  to  some 
crisis,  something  that  I  can  not  foresee  or  conjecture. 
I  am  very  apprehensive,  more  so  than  during  the  war. 
Then  we  had  a  fixed  object,  and  though  the  means 
and  time  of  obtaining  it  were  problematical,  yet  I  did 
firmly  believe  that  we  should  ultimately  succeed,  be 
cause  I  as  firmly  believed  that  justice  was  with  us. 
The  case  is  now  altered.  We  are  going  and  doing 
wrong,  and,  therefore,  I  look  forward  to  evils  and  calam 
ities,  but  without  being  able  to  guess  at  the  instru 
ment,  nature,  or  measure  of  them.  What  I  most  fear 
is,  that  the  better  kind  of  people,  by  which  I  mean 
the  people  who  are  orderly  and  industrious,  who  are 
content  with  their  situations,  and  not  uneasy  in  their 
circumstances,  will  be  led  by  the  insecurity  of  prop. 

(109) 


1 10  4  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

erty,  the  loss  of  public  faith  and  rectitude,  to  consider 
the  charms  of  liberty  as  imaginary  and  delusive.  A 
state  of  fluctuation  and  uncertainty  must  disgust  and 
alarm.' 

" '  Mr.  Jay,'  said  I,  '  as  you  have  the  kindness  to  en 
lighten  me  on  the  condition  of  a  country  and  insti 
tutions  for  which  I  have  fought,  and  in  which  I  take 
the  deepest  interest  as  a  Frenchman  and  al'y,  will 
you  permit  me  to  ask  if  you  have  ever  communicated 
these  views  to  General  Washington  ? ' 

" '  I  have,'  replied  the  secretary  of  foreign  affairs, 
and  he  took  a  letter  from  a  table  before  him.  '  Here 
is,'  he  continued,  '  Washington's  answer  :  "  I  coincide 
in  your  opinion  that  public  affairs  are  drawing  rapidly 
to  a  crisis,  and  I  acknowledge  that  the  event  is  equal 
ly  beyond  my  foresight.  We  have  errors  to  correct. 
We  have  probably  had  too  good  an  opinion  of  human 
nature  in  forming  our  confederation.  Experience  has 
taught  us  that  men  will  not  adopt  and  carry  into  ex 
ecution  measures  the  best  calculated  for  their  own 
good,  without  the  intervention  of  coercive  power.  I 
do  not  conceive  that  we  can  exist  long  as  a  nation  with 
out  lodging  somewhere  a  power  which  will  pervade  the 
whole  Union  in  as  energetic  a  manner  as  the  author 
ity  of  the  State  governments  extends  over  the  several 
States.  To  be  fearful  of  investing  Congress,  insti 
tuted  as  that  body  is,  with  ample  authorities  for  na 
tional  progress,  appears  to  me  the  very  climax  of  pop 
ular  absurdity  and  madness.  Could  Congress  exert 
them  for  the  detriment  of  the  people,  without  injur 
ing  themselves  in  an  equal  or  greater  proportion? 
Are  not  their  interests  inseparably  connected  with 
those  of  their  constituents?  By  the  rotation  of  ap» 
pointments  must  they  not  mingle  frequently  with  the 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  m 

mass  of  the  citizens?  Is  it  not  rather  to  be  appre 
hended,  if  they  were  possessed  of  the  powers  before 
described,  that  the  individual  members  would  be  in 
duced  to  use  them,  on  many  occasions,  very  timidly 
and  inefficaciously,  for  fear  of  losing  their  popularity 
and  future  election?  We  must  take  human  nature 
as  we  find  it ;  perfection  falls  not  to  the  state  of 
mortals." ' 

"  What  food  for  reflection,  my  dear  Lakanal !  Here 
is  the  secretary  of  foreign  affairs  for  this  new-born  re 
public,  intensely  afraid  that,  by  the  '  insecurity  of 
property,  the  loss  of  public  faith  and  rectitude,'  the 
people  may  consider  the  charms  of  liberty,  their  re 
cently  chosen  bride,  as  '  imaginary  and  delusive ' ! 
Here  is  Washington  himself  declaring  that  they  had 
too  good  an  opinion  of  human  nature  when  they  formed 
their  confederation !  If  experience,  as  he  said,  has 
taught  that  men  will  not  adopt  and  carry  into  execution 
measures  the  best  calculated  for  their  own  good,  without 
the  intervention  of  coercive  power,  how  can  it  be  main 
tained  that  they  are  capable  of  self-government? 
Whence  is  to  come  that  coercive  power  which  is  to 
compel  the  people  to  pursue  their  own  good  and  pre 
vent  them  from  going  astray?  If  they  are  so  stupid 
or  prejudiced  as  not  to  see  what  is  conducive  to  their 
own  welfare,  surely  they  can  not  have  the  sense  to 
choose  properly  those  rulers  who  are  to  coerce  them 
into  it.  Are  we,  then,  to  go  back  to  the  doctrine  of 
divinely-appointed  governors  and  kings?  This  sadly 
perplexes  me,  dear  Lakanal.  It  must  seem  very  in 
credible  that  such  a  declaration  should  come  from 
such  a  source,  and  it  certainly  would  rejoice  the  heart 
of  Tintin  Calandro,  the  royalist  and  the  loyal. 

"  But  let  us,  my  friend,  return  to  Washington's  let- 


H2  A  UBERT  DUBA  YET. 

ter  to  Jay.  'What,  then,  is  to  be  done?'  he  says. 
'  Things  can  not  go  on  in  the  same  strain  forever.  It 
is  much  to  be  feared,  as  you  observe,  that  the  better 
kind  of  people,  being  disgusted  with  these  circum 
stances,  will  have  their  minds  prepared  for  any  revo 
lution  whatever.  We  are  apt  to  run  from  one  ex 
treme  to  another.  I  am  told  that  even  respectable 
characters  speak  of  a  monarchical  form  of  government 
without  horror.  From  thinking  proceeds  speaking ; 
thence  acting  is  often  but  a  single  step.  But  how 
irrevocable  and  tremendous  !  What  a  triumph  for  our 
enemies  to  verify  their  predictions  !  What  a  triumph 
for  the  advocates  of  despotism  to  find  that  we  are  inca 
pable  of  governing  ourselves,  and  that  systems,  founded 
on  the  basis  of  equal  liberty,  are  merely  ideal  and  fal 
lacious  !  Would  to  God  that  wise  measures  may  be 
taken  in  time  to  avert  the  consequences  we  have  but 
too  much  reason  to  apprehend  ! '  What  an  admission, 
O  ye  deities  of  high  Olympus  !  Will,  my  dear  Lak- 
anal,  your  intense  worship  of  the  Phrygian  goddess 
who  wears  a  red  cap  on  her  head,  permit  you  to  be 
lieve  that  the  founder  of  this  infant  republic  declares 
that  he  has  but  too  much  reason  to  apprehend  that  it 
may  be  changed  into  a  monarchy?  O  the  vanity  of 
human  aspirations  and  calculations! 

"'Retired  as  I  am  from  the  world,'  Washington 
further  says,  '  I  frankly  acknowledge  I  can  not  feel 
myself  an  unconcerned  spectator.  Yet,  having  hap 
pily  assisted  in  bringing  the  ship  into  port,  and  hav 
ing  been  fairly  discharged,  it  is  not  my  business  to 
embark  again  on  the  sea  of  troubles.  Nor  could  it  be 
expected  that  my  sentiments  and  opinions  would  have 
much  weight  in  the  minds  of  my  countrymen.  They 
have  been  neglected,  though  given  as  a  last  legacy  in 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  \\^ 

a  most  solemn  manner.  I  then  perhaps  had  some 
claims  to  public  attention.  I  consider  myself  as  hav 
ing  none  at  present.' 

"  Can  there  be  anything  more  inexpressibly  sad 
than  this  last  paragraph  ?  What  mournful  dejection  ! 
Was  this  to  be  expected  at  the  end  of  such  a  career? 
What  discouragement  there  must  have  been  in  such 
a  heart,  when  these  lines  were  penned  !  And  let  me 
tell  you,  my  dear  Lakanal,  that  there  are  good  causes 
for  it,  inasmuch  as,  according  to  my  observations,  I 
can  safely  assert,  I  think,  that  now,  as  during  the  war, 
the  population  of  this  country  is  about  equally  divided 
into  Tories  and  Whigs — that  is  to  say,  between  roy 
alists  and  republicans.  In  Massachusetts,  that  famous 
land  of  the  pilgrims,  which  claims  to  be  the  cradle  of 
the  revolution,  there  is  now  a  dangerous  insurrection 
which  threatens  to  jeopardize  all  that  has  been  se 
cured.  General  Knox,  the  secretary  of  war,  who 
had  been  sent  by  Congress  to  inquire  into  this  mat 
ter,  thus  reports :  '  The  creed  of  the  insurgents  is, 
that  the  property  of  the  United  States  has  been  pro 
tected  from  the  confiscation  of  Britain  by  the  joint 
exertion  of  all,  and  therefore  ought  to  be  the  common 
property  of  all,  and  he  that  attempts  opposition  to 
this  creed,  is  an  enemy  to  equity  and  justice,  and 
ought  to  be  swept  from  the  face  of  the  earth.  They 
are  determined  to  annihilate  all  debts,  public  and  pri 
vate,  and  have  agrarian  laws,  which  are  easily  effected 
by  the  means  of  unfunded  paper,  which  shall  be  a 
tender  in  all  cases  whatever." 

These  events  were  transpiring  in  1786,  and  were 
not  of  a  nature  to  inspire  Aubert  Dubayet  with  much 
confidence  in,  and  much  sympathy  for,  the  popular 
movements  and  manoeuvres  which  the  friends  of 


1 14  A  UBERT  DUB  A  YET. 

change  and  liberty  were  beginning  to  inaugurate  in 
his  own  country,  much  to  the  delight  of  his  former 
college  companion,  Joseph  Lakanal,  who  kept  him 
regularly  posted  up  as  to  what  was  going  on  in  France. 
He  saw  that  anarchy  and  demoralization  were  the  re 
sult  of  a  revolution  in  America,  and  he  was  afraid 
that  such  would  be  the  case  on  the  other  side  of  the 
Atlantic,  to  a  much  greater  degree  and  with  much 
more  frightful  consequences.  He  saw  that  it  was  not 
enough  to  be  the  elected  representatives  of  the  peo 
ple,  in  order  to  be,  from  that  single  circumstance, 
honest,  virtuous,  and  enlightened,  and  besides,  that 
the  wisdom  and  morality  of  representatives  were  of 
very  little  avail  when  facing  the  folly  or  evil  passions 
of  constituents.  He  had  a  striking  example  before 
him.  Congress  was  powerless,  and  did  not  even  know 
what  resolve  to  take.  One  of  the  distinguished  mem 
bers  of  that  body,  Colonel  Henry  Lee,  was  writing 
letters  after  letters  to  Washington,  asking  for  his  ad 
vice.  He  replied  at  last :  "  You  tell  me,  my  good  Sir, 
of  employing  influence  to  appease  the  present  troubles 
in  Massachusetts.  I  know  not  where  that  influence 
is  to  be  found,  or,  if  attainable,  that  it  would  be  a 
proper  remedy  for  the  disorders.  Influence  is  not 
government.  Let  us  have  a  government  by  which 
our  lives,  liberties,  and  properties  will  be  secured,  or 
let  us  know  the  worst  at  once.  There  is  a  call  for 
decision.  Know  precisely  what  the  insurgents  aim 
at.  If  they  have  real  grievances,  redress  them  if  pos 
sible  ;  or  acknowledge  the  justice  of  them,  and  your 
inability  to  give  that  redress  at  that  moment.  If 
they  have  not,  employ  the  force  of  government 
against  them  at  once.  If  this  is  inadequate,  all  will 
be  convinced  that  the  superstructure  is  bad  and  wants 


AUBERT  DUBAYET.  ujj 

support.  To  delay  one  or  other  of  these  expedients 
is  to  exasperate  on  one  hand,  or  to  give  confidence 
on  the  other.  Let  the  reins  of  government,  then,  be 
braced,  and  held  with  a  steady  hand,  and  every  viola 
tion  of  the  constitution  be  reprehended.  If  defective, 
let  it  be  amended  ;  but  not  suffered  to  be  trampled 
upon  whilst  it  has  an  existence." 

This  was  the  firm  and  considerate  advice  of  a 
statesman  and  soldier,  but  the  effete  Congress  had 
not  nerve  enough  to  apply  the  remedy  needed  by  the 
evil,  which  grew  as  it  fed  upon  itself.  On  the  ist  of 
November,  Colonel  Humphreys,  one  of  Washington's 
former  aides-de-camp,  wrote  to  him  from  New  Haven, 
in  Connecticut :  "  The  troubles  in  Massachusetts  still 
continue.  Government  is  prostrated  in  the  dust,  and 
it  is  much  to  be  feared  that  there  is  not  energy  enough 
in  that  State  to  re-establish  the  civil  powers.  The 
leaders  of  the  mob,  whose  fortunes  and  measures  are 
desperate,  are  strengthening  themselves  daily ;  and  it 
is  expected  that  they  will  soon  take  possession  of  the 
continental  magazine  at  Springfield,  in  which  there 
are  from  ten  to  fifteen  thousand  stand  of  arms  in  ex 
cellent  order. 

"  A  general  want  of  compliance  with  the  requisi 
tions  of  Congress  for  money  seems  to  prognosticate 
that  we  are  rapidly  advancing  to  a  crisis.  Congress, 
I  am  told,  is  seriously  alarmed,  and  hardly  knows 
which  way  to  turn,  or  what  to  expect.  Indeed,  my 
dear  General,  nothing  but  a  good  Providence  can  ex 
tricate  us  from  the  present  convulsion. 

"  In  case  of  civil  discord,  I  have  already  told  you  it 
was  seriously  my  opinion  that  you  could  not  remain 
neuter,  and  that  you  would  be  obliged,  in  self-defense, 
to  take  one  part  or  the  other,  or  withdraw  from  the 
continent.  Your  friends  are  of  the  same  opinion." 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET. 

What  a  picture  !  A  war  of  seven  years,  indescrib 
able  sufferings  endured  by  the  Americans,  the  richest 
blood  of  France  freely  spilt  or  exposed,  her  millions 
scattered  without  stint,  to  enthrone  liberty  instead  of 
oppression,  and  to  establish  forever  the  doctrine  that 
all  men  are  born  free  and  equal !  These  had  been 
the  objects  aimed  at.  What  had  been  obtained  ? 
The  preceding  pages  show  it.  What  was  the  pros 
pect  in  the  future  ?  A  civil  war,  and  Washington 
leading  Americans  against  Americans,  or  flying  from 
his  country  to  avoid  such  a  dire  necessity  !  Notwith 
standing  his  almost  superhuman  fortitude,  well  may 
Washington  have  been  driven  to  despair,  and  ex 
claimed,  as  he  did  :  "  What,  gracious  God,  is  man, 
that  there  should  be  such  inconsistency  and  perfidious- 
ness  in  his  conduct !  It  was  but  the  other  day  that 
we  were  shedding  our  blood  to  obtain  the  constitu 
tions  under  which  we  now  live — constitutions  of  our 
own  choice  and  making — and  which  now  we  are  un 
sheathing  the  sword  to  overturn !  The  thing  is  so 
unaccountable,  that  I  hardly  know  how  to  realize  it, 
or  to  persuade  myself  that  I  am  not  under  the  illu 
sion  of  a  dream."  * 

The  extent  of  the  existing  evils  and  the  trouble  of 
mind  which  it  produced  in  him  are  strikingly  exhib 
ited  in  his  letters  to  Knox :  "  I  feel,  my  dear  General 
Knox,"  he  says,  "  infinitely  more  than  I  can  express 
to  you  for  the  disorders  which  have  arisen  in  these 
States.  Good  God  !  Who,  besides  a  Tory,  could  have 
foreseen,  or  a  Briton  predicted  them  ?  I  do  assure 
you  that,  even  at  this  moment,  when  I  reflect  upon 
the  present  prospect  of  our  affairs,  it  seems  to  me  to 


*  Irving's  "  Life  of  Washington,''  p.  453,  vol.  iv. 


A UBERT  DUBA  YET.  \\j 

be  like  the  vision  of  a  dream.  After  what  I  have 
seen,  or  rather  what  I  have  heard,  I  shall  be  surprised 
at  nothing;  for,  if  three  years  since,  any  person  had 
told  me  that  there  would  have  been  such  a  formida 
ble  rebellion  of  our  own  making,  I  should  have 
thought  him  a  bedlamite,  a  fit  subject  for  a  mad 
house.  In  regretting,  which  I  have  often  done  with 
the  keenest  sorrow,  the  death  of  our  much-lamented 
friend,  General  Greene,  I  have  accompanied  it  of  late 
with  a  query,  whether  he  would  not  have  preferred 
such  an  event,  to  the  scenes  which,  it  is  more  than 
probable,  many  of  his  compatriots  may  live  to  be 
moan."  What  a  terrible  sentence !  What  a  lesson 
to  the  pride  of  man,  who  sometimes  thinks  that  he  is 
doing  wonders  for  his  race,  when  in  reality  he  is  lead 
ing  it  to  perdition!  This  letter  was  communicated 
to  Dubayet,  who  sent  a  copy  of  it  to  Lakanal,  with 
this  observation  ;  "  If  such  things  are  possible  in  the 
golden  age  of  this  republic,  which  was  intended  by 
its  authors  to  be  a  model  one  for  the  world,  what  will 
happen  to  it  in  its  age  of  brass?" 

So  distressed  was  Washington  that,  to  use  his  own 
expressions,  "he  allowed  himself,  contrary  to  his 
original  intention,  to  be  swept  back  into  the  tide  of 
human  affairs,  and  to  abandon  that  ease  and  retire 
ment  which,"  he  said,  "  were  so  desired  by  him  and 
so  essentially  necessary."  He  exerted  himself  to  the 
utmost  to  bring  about  a  modification  of  the  govern 
ment,  and  to  give  the  new  one  proposed  more  force 
and  vitality.  In  connection  with  that  subject,  he 
wrote  to  James  Madison :  "  How  melancholy  is  the 
reflection  that,  in  so  short  a  time,  we  should  have 
made  such  large  strides  toward  fulfilling  the  predic 
tions  of  our  transatlantic  foes  !  Leave  them  to  them- 


I  1 3  A  USER  T  DUB  A  YET. 

selves,  and  their  government  will  soon  dissolve.  Will 
not  the  wise  and  good  strive  hard  to  avoid  this  evil  ? 
Or  will  their  supineness  suffer  ignorance  and  the  arts 
of  self-interested  and  designing,  disaffected,  and  des 
perate  characters  to  involve  this  great  country  in 
wretchedness  and  in  contempt?  What  stronger  evi 
dence  can  be  given  of  the  want  of  energy  in  our  gov 
ernment  than  those  disorders?  If  there  is  no  power 
in  it  to  check  them,  what  security  has  a  man  for  life, 
liberty,  or  property  ?  To  you  I  am  sure  I  need  not 
add  aught  on  the  subject.  The  consequences  of  a  lax 
or  inefficient  government  are  too  obvious  to  be  dwelt 
upon.  Thirteen  sovereignties  pulling  against  each 
other,  and  all  tugging  at  the  Federal  head,  will  soon 
bring  ruin  on  the  whole ;  whereas  a  liberal  and  ener 
getic  constitution,  well  checked  and  well  watched,  to 
prevent  encroachments,  might  restore  us  to  that  de 
gree  of  respectability  and  consequence  to  which  we 
had  the  finest  prospect  of  attaining." 

Notwithstanding  Washington,  in  a  fit  of  despond 
ency,  said  that  his  opinions  and  counsels  were  of  little 
weight  with  his  countrymen,  it  was  the  reverse  of  the 
proposition  which  was  the  truth;  they  had  been 
widely  effective,  and  had  contributed  to  induce  the 
legislative  assemblies  of  the  several  States  to  adopt 
the  plan  of  a  convention,  to  meet  at  Philadelphia, 
and  devise  a  better  system  of  federation.  Washington 
was  put  at  the  head  of  the  Virginia  delegation.  Be 
fore  the  time  arrived  for  the  meeting  of  the 
convention,  the  insurrection  in  Massachusetts  was 
suppressed  with  but  little  bloodshed.  It  had  ap 
peared  very  formidable ;  there  had  been  a  great  deal 
of  sound  and  fury ;  but  when  they  had  to  come  to 
blows,  the  roaring  lions  turned  out  to  be  sheep,  and 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  1 19 

the  leaders  fled  to  Canada,  leaving  their  followers  to 
fare  as  best  they  could.  True  to  his  character,  Wash 
ington  recommended  lenient  measures,  and  advo 
cated  the  policy  of  not  alienating  the  people  from 
their  government  by  the  severity  of  unnecessary  pun 
ishment.  But  it  is  not  in  the  nature  of  Puritanism 
to  be  merciful  and  chivalrous — so  that  the  Legislature 
of  Massachusetts  disfranchised  a  large  number  of  heri 
citizens,  and  thereby  deprived  some  of  them  of  the 
means  of  gaining  a  livelihood.  Political  helotism, 
thus  established  in  the  lap  of  liberty,  seemed  to  Aubert 
Dubayet  a  monstrous  contradiction.  He  had  been 
still  more  startled  by  the  insurrection  itself ;  for, 
during  the  war  and  after,  he  had  associated  much 
with  Massachusetts  people,  and  from  their  conversa 
tions  and  representations  he  had  derived  the  impres 
sion  that  the  inhabitants  of  that  State  were  the  most 
law-abiding,  the  most  patriotic,  the  most  disinterest 
ed,  the  most  charitable,  the  most  virtuous,  the  most 
enlightened  community  that  had  ever  existed — consti 
tuting,  in  fact,  the  only  thoroughly  pure  spot  in  this 
sinful  world. 

The  convention  of  the  delegates  from  all  the  States 
met  with  a  quorum  on  the  25th  of  May  1787,  and 
Washington  was  unanimously  called  to  the  chair  as 
president.  After  discussions  which  lasted  four  months, 
the  result  was  the  formation  of  a  new  confederacy 
and  constitution  for  the  United  States.  This  consti 
tution  was  to  be  ratified  by  the  States  before  it  went 
into  effect.  "  This  instrument,"  wrote  Dubayet  to 
Lakanal,  "  meets  with  the  most  strenuous  opposition 
from  many  quarters.  Washington,  however,  is  highly 
pleased.  I  heard  him  say:  'It  appears  to  me  little 
short  of  a  miracle,  that  the  delegates  from  so  many 


1 20  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

States,  different  from  each  other  in  their  manners  and 
prejudices,  should  unite  in  forming  a  system  of 
national  government  so  little  liable  to  well-founded 
objections.  Nor  am  I  such  an  enthusiastic,  partial, 
or  indiscriminating  admirer  of  it,  as  not  to  perceive  it 
is  tinctured  with  some  real,  though  not  radical,  defects. 
With  regard  to  the  two  great  points,  the  pivots  upon 
which  the  whole  machine  must  move,  my  creed  is 
simply,  first,  that  the  General  Government  is  not  in 
vested  with  more  powers  than  are  indispensably  nec 
essary  to  perform  the  functions  of  a  good  govern 
ment  ;  and,  consequently,  that  no  objection  ought  to 
be  made  against  the  quantity  of  power  delegated  to 
it.  Secondly,  that  these  powers,  as  the  appointment 
of  all  rulers  will  ever  arise  from,  and  at  short  stated 
intervals  recur  to,  the  free  suffrages  of  the  people,  are 
so  distributed  among  the  legislative,  executive,  and 
judicial  branches  into  which  the  General  Government 
is  arranged,  that  it  can  never  be  in  danger  of  degen 
erating  into  a  monarchy,  an  oligarchy,  an  aristocracy, 
or  any  other  despotic  or  oppressive  form,  so  long  as 
there  shall  remain  any  virtue  in  the  body  of  the  people. 
We  are  not  to  expect  perfection  in  this  world.  Noth 
ing  but  harmony,  honesty,  industry,  and  frugality  are 
necessary  to  make  us  a  great  and  happy  people.' 

"  This  is  the  sound  of  one  bell,  my  dear  friend,  but, 
having  met  Patrick  Henry,  the  great  Virginian 
patriot,  the  Demosthenes  of  America,  whose  famous 
shout  of  '  Give  me  liberty,  or  give  me  death,'  rever 
berated  across  the  Atlantic  with  such  thrilling  effect, 
as  you  well  know,  he  sounded  the  tocsin  of  alarm 
when  I  communicated  to  him  Washington's  views. 

"  '  I  am  sorry,'  he  said,  '  that  I  can  not  agree  with 
that  good  and  great  man.  He  is  so  happy  at  the 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  I2i 

prospect  of  escaping  the  confusion  and  misery  which 
were  rapidly  coming  upon  us,  that  I  am  afraid  his 
excellent  judgment  is  warped.  He  sees  on  this  occa 
sion  with  the  eyes  of  hope,  not  with  those  of  experi 
ence  and  stern  reason  ;  his  verdict  is  from  the  heart 
and  not  from  the  brain.  We  have  not  laid  a  lasting 
foundation  for  tranquillity  and  happiness.  This 
instrument  gives  too  much  constructive  power  to  the 
Federal  Government.  Washington  uses  too  often 
the  word,  national ;  I  always  say,  federal.  We  are 
not  a  nation,  but  a  federation  of  sovereignties.  I  am 
afraid  that  this  will  be  forgotten  in  the  end.  I,  for 
one,  am  a  Virginian,  and  nothing  else.  That  satis 
fies  my  ambition.  I  think  that  I  read  but  too  clearly 
into  the  future.  Swelled  by  that  mighty  tide  of  emi 
gration  which,  like  the  waves  of  the  ocean,  will  beat 
incessantly  upon  our  shores,  the  population  of  the 
United  States,  whose  territory,  in  the  course  of  time, 
may  extend  to  the  frontiers  of  Mexico,  and  perhaps 
beyond  them,  will  exceed  fifty  millions  in  a  century 
hence.  It  is,  then,  probable  that  we  shall  become  the 
greatest  commercial,  agricultural,  and  manufacturing 
people  in  the  world,  and,  therefore,  the  richest.  The 
Federal  Government,  thus  gigantic  in  its  proportions, 
will  hold  the  purse  and  the  sword  of  that  Titan  under 
its  absolute  control.  Will  it  not,  then,  be  omnipotent  ? 
Who  will  gainsay  its  construction  of  its  own  powers? 
Give  me  the  purse  and  the  sword  of  a  nation,  and  I 
am  Caesar  in  fact,  no  matter  by  what  name  you  may 
call  me,  and  no  Caesar  is  a  respecter  of  rights  secured 
only  by  paper  guaranties.' 

"  I  ventured  here  to  interrupt  him,  and  to  express 
the  hope  that  his  fears  were  imaginary. 

"  '  Imaginary ! '  he  exclaimed.  '  Has  not  our  pres- 
6 


122  ^  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

ent  government  begun  in  strife  and  insurrection?  Is 
not  the  new  one  proposed  the  object  of  angry  opposi 
tion  ?  What  country  ever  had  such  a  diversity  of 
interests,  not  to  say  anything  of  that  antagonism 
which  must  be  irrepressible  and  irreconcilable  between 
slaveholding  and  non-slaveholding  States ;  for,  the 
few  slaves  still  existing  on  the  north  side  of  Maryland 
are  bound  to  be  soon  emancipated,  or,  rather,  to  be 
sold  to  the  South,  where  alone  they  can  be  profitable 
to  their  masters.  The  late  insurrection  in  Massachu 
setts  will  be  imitated  and  "  bettered  by  the  instruc 
tion."  On  that  occasion  it  was  a  mere  rebellion 
against  that  State.  The  like  event  in  fifty  years  will 
probably  be  termed  a  rebellion  against  the  National 
Government,  as  it  will  then  be  called,  when  its  origin 
is  forgotten  ;  and  there  will  be  disfranchisements  de 
creed  by  Congress,  as  sweepingly  as  those  which  were 
recently  decreed  by  the  Legislature  of  that  State.  But 
what  a  difference,  and  with  what  awful  consequences ! 
Were  I  to  live  a  century  longer,  I  should  not  be  aston 
ished  to  see  half  the  people  of  the  United  States  arrayed 
in  war  against  the  other  half,  as  it  was  lately  very  near 
occurring,  when  we  thought  that  he  whom  we  call  the 
Father  of  his  Country  would  have  to  take  side,  and  to 
choose  between  his  fellow-citizens  divided  into  two 
hostile  camps,  or  leave  the  continent  to  avoid  being 
forced  into  civil  war.  But  should  in  after  years  that 
war  break  out,  it  will  no  longer  be  between  Whigs 
and  Tories.  Probably  it  will  be  between  the  North 
and  the  South,  the  Cavaliers  against  the  Puritans,  the 
lordly  owners  of  black  slaves  against  the  white  slaves 
of  the  wheel  and  spindle.' 

"'  I  can  not,  however,  but  admire/  said  I,  '  the  pro 
found  wisdom  which  has  equally  divided  the  powers 


A  UBER T  D UBA  YET.  123 

of  the  new  government  between  the  judiciary,  the 
executive,  and  the  legislative  department.  It  is  a 
skillful  contrivance  of  checks  and  balances,  which 
must  prevent  many  of  the  evils  you  apprehend.' 

" '  Powers  equally  divided  ! '  said  he.  '  Those 
checks  and  balances  are  as  nugatory  and  deceptive 
as  shadows  assuming  the  semblance  of  substances. 
In  times  of  high  excitement,  should  the  Supreme 
Court  of  the  United  States  dare  to  oppose  Congress, 
that  body  will  legislate  it  into  non-entity,  nullity,  or 
insignificance.  As  to  the  President,  should  he  thwart 
a  House  and  Senate  composed  of  unscrupulous  par 
tisans  elected  by  a  passion-moved  multitude,  as  all 
multitudes  are,  they  will  either  impeach  and  remove 
him,  or  so  fetter  him  in  his  office  as  to  compel  him 
to  be  inactive,  or  follow  them  passively  in  leading- 
strings.  Then  will  be  inaugurated  the  rule  of  a  par 
liamentary  oligarchy — the  worst  of  all  despotisms, 
because  it  has  no  personal  responsibility.  Then  will 
the  States  be  provinces  and  the  Governors  procon 
suls.  As  to  myself,  I  am  not  for  the  splendor  of  con 
solidation,  nor  for  the  cohesion  of  public  plunder  and 
demoralization  in  a  vast  American  empire,  imposing 
on  its  subjects  the  chains  of  a  gilded  servitude.  I 
prefer  small  independent  States,  with  moderate 
wealth  and  power;  but  rich  in  virtue,  patriotism, 
and  frugality.  This  is  more  conducive  to  the  happi 
ness  of  men.  Give  me  a  galaxy  of  stars  self-ponder- 
ated  and  supporting  one  another  by  mutual  attrac 
tion  in  the  atmosphere  of  liberty  and  equality,  rather 
than  the  radiant  supremacy,  gorgeous  as  it  may  be, 
of  the  monarch  of  the  day,  who,  when  he  appears  on 
the  horizon,  does  not  permit  any  other  rival  luminary 
to  shine  in  that  firmament  where  he  reigns  in  solitary 
grandeur.' 


!  24  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

"  There  are  many,  however,  my  dear  Lakanal,  and 
among  them  is  Alexander  Hamilton,  who  would 
have  wished  for  a  stronger  government  than  the  one 
which  Patrick  Henry  thinks  too  strong.  Such  are 
the  conflicting  views  of  men !  It  is  as  difficult  to 
make  them  agree  as  clocks ;  Charles  V.  found  that 
out.  Posterity  alone  will  be  able  to  decide  correctly 
on  this  question  of  the  merits  of  this  new  constitu 
tion  of  the  United  States,  when  tasting  of  its  fruits." 

That  new  constitution  having  gone  into  operation, 
Washington  was  elected  President  without  opposi 
tion,  and  was  inaugurated  in  the  city  of  New  York 
on  the  3Oth  of  April,  1789,  amidst  the  enthusiastic 
rejoicings  of  the  people.  A  few  days  after  having 
witnessed  that  august  ceremony,  Aubert  Dubayet 
departed  for  France  and  landed  safely  at  Bordeaux, 
where  he  found  Lakanal,  who,  having  been  apprised 
of  the  probable  time  of  his  arrival,  had  hastened  to 
meet  him.  After  the  friends  had  exchanged  greet 
ings— 

"  What  news  in  our  dear  France  ?  "  said  Dubayet. 

"  The  news  is,"  replied  Lakanal,  "  that  you  have 
seen  the  end  of  one  revolution,  and  that  you  arrive 
just  in  time  to  see  the  beginning  of  another." 

"  May  we,  then,"  exclaimed  Dubayet,  "  have  a 
Washington  at  our  head  to  lead  us  through  the  ter 
rible  ordeal ! " 

"  Amen ! "  ejaculated  the  priest  and  professor  of 
belles-lettres. 

"And  our  dear  Tintin  Calandro?  How  fares  he?" 
inquired  Dubayet. 

"  He  fiddles,"  replied  Lakanal  with  a  sneer,  "whilst 
Rome  is  burning." 


CHAPTER   X. 

THE  COUNT  DE  MIRABEAU  BECOMES  A  CLOTH  MER- 
CHANT — HIS  FIRST  POLITICAL  SPEECH  AT  AIX 
AS  A  CANDIDATE  BEFORE  THE  PEOPLE. 

AUBERT  DUBAYET  had  inherited  considerable 
property  in  Louisiana.  Before  departing  from  the 
United  States,  to  the  formation  of  which  he  had  con 
tributed,  he  had  ordered  the  whole  of  this  property 
to  be  sold  and  the  amount  remitted  to  him  in  Paris, 
so  that,  on  hij  arrival  in  that  city,  he  found  a  large 
sum  at  his  disposal.  He  invested  in  a  dwelling-house 
in  Grenoble  and  in  farms  near  that  town,  where  his 
family  originated,  and  where  he  still  had  many  rela 
tives.  He  soon  acquired  much  influence  in  that 
province,  then  called  Dauphine,  and  subsequently  the 
Department  of  Isere.  In  consequence  of  the  pecul 
iar  condition  of  the  public  mind  at  that  epoch,  in  a 
country  where  great  radical  changes  were  desired  and 
probable,  all  persons  connected  with  the  American 
revolution,  which  had  so  recently  been  accomplished, 
and  particularly  those  French  officers  who  had  taken 
part  in  it,  were  objects  of  lively  interest.  Hence  Au- 
bert  Dubayet  became  the  lion  of  the  locality  and  a 
sort  qf  political  authority.  Old  and  young  turned 
their  eyes  to  him  inquisitively,  as  if  they  hoped  that 
he  had  brought  from  the  new  world,  and  from  the 
cradle  of  its  infant  republic,  some  knowledge  or  ex 
perience  by  which  they  might  profit  in  settling  those 

(125) 


1 26  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

questions  that  threatened  to  convulse  the  nation.  In 
fact,  without  aiming  at  any  such  distinction,  Aubert 
Dubayet,  by  the  mere  force  of  circumstance,  was 
gravitating  toward  the  position  of  a  leader  of  the  peo 
ple.  The  man  who  had  been  in  contact  with  Wash 
ington,  Lafayette,  Franklin,  and  the  other  great  pa 
triots  of  America,  and  who  had  contributed  in  laying 
the  broad  foundations  of  the  empire  of  freedom  in  the 
wilderness  discovered  by  Columbus,  was  invested  with 
a  character  which  commanded  respect  and  excited 
curiosity.  In  social  circles  he  was  eagerly  listened  to 
when  he  related  some  of  the  incidents  of  the  struggle 
which  he  had  witnessed,  and  described  the  new  peo 
ple,  the  new  institutions,  and  the  new  country  he  had 
carefully  examined.  The  population  of  the  province 
where  Aubert  Dubayet  had  established  himself,  was 
soon  intensely  agitated  by  the  convocation  of  the 
States-General  of  the  kingdom.  This  was  an  assembly 
composed  of  the  nobility,  clergy,  and  tiers  <ftat,  or  com 
mons,  deliberating  in  distinct  bodies  and  in  separate 
chambers,  as  the  representatives  of  the  nation,  and 
which  used  to  be  reluctantly  convened  by  the  royal 
authority,  and  then,  only  on  occasions  of  the  most 
vital  importance.  The  French  people  were  not  ac 
customed  to  elections,  and  the  present  one  was  con 
ducted  with  indescribable  violence  of  party  feelings. 
Aubert  Dubayet  had  been  solicited  to  participate  in 
it,  but  had  persistently  refused,  on  the  ground  that 
his  coming  among  them  had  been  of  too  recent  a  date 
to  permit  him  to  acquire  a  sufficient  knowledge  of 
the  country  and  of  its  wants.  He  contented  himself, 
therefore,  with  being  a  spectator  of  the  contest,  but 
by  no  means  an  unconcerned  one. 

In  the  neighboring  province,  so  well  known  in  his- 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  :  27 

tory  and  poetry  under  the  name  of  Provence,  there 
was  a  man  destined  to  great  celebrity,  who  was  a  can 
didate  for  the  honors  of  a  seat  in  the  States-General. 
His  name  was  Honore  Gabriel  Riquetti,  Count  de 
Mirabeau.  The  bearer  of  that  name,  which  was  to 
become  so  famous,  had  already  acquired  an  unenvi 
able  notoriety  by  the  vices  which  he  really  possessed, 
and  by  those  which  were  attributed  to  him.  He  had 
early  yielded  to  the  unrestrained  indulgence  of  pas 
sions  uncommonly  fierce.  His  whole  life  had  been 
but  one  perpetual  storm,  during  which  he  seemed  to 
have  delighted  in  braving  the  thunderbolt  of  law  and 
authority,  and  in  setting  Heaven  itself  at  defiance; 
for  he  was  bold  enough  to  have  repeated  the  exclama 
tion  of  the  younger  Ajax :  "  I  will  escape  from  this 
wreck  in  spite  of  the  gods."  His  eloquence  was  re 
ported  to  be  resistless,  so  much  so  that,  on  one  occa 
sion,  his  father,  having  caused  him  to  be  incarcerated 
in  a  state  prison  for  some  delinquency  of  which  he 
was  accused,  refused  to  allow  him  the  hearing  that  he 
claimed  in  self-defense,  and  gave  this  reason  for  his 
refusal :  "  I  know  that  I  am  right,  but  were  I  to  afford 
him  the  opportunity  to  speak  for  himself,  he  would 
convince  me  that  I  am  wrong." 

Being  called  to  Aix  on  some  private  affair,  Aubert 
Dubayet,  in  the  evening  of  the  day  following  his  arri 
val,  saw  the  streets  filled  with  people  who  were  hast 
ening  in  a  particular  direction,  and  who  seemed  greatly 
excited.  He  inquired  what  was  the  matter,  and  was 
told  that  the  public  square  in  front  of  the  cathedral 
was  to  be  illuminated,  and  that  Mirabeau,  the  candi 
date  for  the  States-General,  would  address  the  people. 
The  meeting  was  to  take  place  at  eight  o'clock. 
Through  the  influence  of  a  friend,  Aubert  Dubayet 


1 28  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

managed  to  secure  a  seat  not  far  from  the  platform 
which  had  been  prepared  for  the  occasion.  When  the 
orator  made  his  appearance  he  was  received  with  a 
whirlwind  of  applause,  mixed  with  shouts  of  derision 
and  abuse.  The  object  of  these  boisterous  demon 
strations  was  a  man  of  ordinary  size,  but  very  robust. 
His  shoulders  were  broad  and  square,  and  his  swelling 
chest  gave  promise  of  a  powerful  voice ;  his  bushy 
hair,  carefully  powdered  and  combed  back,  made  more 
salient  a  high  and  heavy  forehead  of  the  Olympian 
cast,  streaked  with  large  blue  veins.  His  eyes,  gleam 
ing  under  his  arched  brows,  were  a  mirror  that  re 
flected  all  the  emotions  of  which  the  soul  is  suscep 
tible.  His  voice  was  superb  in  all  its  keys;  his  gest 
ures  were  few,  but  worthy  of  the  most  consummate 
actor.  His  whole  face  was  furrowed  with  deep  lines ;  it 
looked  as  if  made  up  of  seams.  A  terrible  disease  had 
marred  it,  pitting  the  skin,  thickening  its  texture,  and 
enlarging  his  naturally  harsh  features  into  repulsive 
coarseness.  His  lips  tightly  pressed  together,  when  he 
was  silent,  seemed  purposely  closed  to  check  the  explo 
sion  of  feelings  and  the  flow  of  thoughts  crowding  at 
the  gate,  and  too  eager  to  burst  forth  before  being 
arrayed  into  the  proper  order  that  judgment  required. 
When  contemplating  such  a  countenance  it  was  impos 
sible  not  to  think  that  it  was  ugliness  itself,  although 
the  sublimity  of  genius  was  visible  through  the  horrid 
mask.  This  personage,  who  looked  about  forty  years 
old,  stood  awhile  with  his  arms  folded  over  his  broad 
chest,  and  with  his  massive  head  haughtily  thrown 
back.  Surveying  leisurely  the  multitude  before  him 
with  an  ill-concealed  air  of  superiority  and  self-confi 
dence  which  seemed  to  say:  Only  hear  me,  and  you 
will  see  if  I  am  not  your  master — he  waited  until  the 


A  VBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

tumult  occasioned  by  his  presence  had  entirely  sub 
sided. 

"  I  know,"  he  said,  "  that  I  have  here  both  friends 
and  enemies.  Before  my  friends  applaud,  and  my 
enemies  hoot,  I  hope  they  will  do  me  the  favor  to 
listen.  To  those  whom  I  wish  to  represent,  it  is  nec 
essary  that  I  should  be  known  physically,  intellectu 
ally,  and  morally.  Well,  here  I  stand  with  all  the 
blushing  honors  of  my  far-famed  ugliness.  Although 
it  is  rumored  that  more  than  one  Venus  has  smiled  on 
me,  I  am  no  Adonis,  as  you  must  now  rest  assured  from 
actual  inspection.  Judge  for  yourselves  on  that  point. 
To  a  lady  who  wanted  a  description  of  my  person,  I 
once  wrote  :  '  You  have  only  to  imagine  the  face  of  a 
lion  just  recovering  from  the  most  malignant  attack 
of  small-pox.'  Another  thing,  as  accidental  in  me  as 
my  ugliness,  is  my  birth,  which  is  noble.  I  am  the 
legitimate  issue  of  Victor  Riquetti,  Marquis  de  Mira- 
beau,  and  of  Louise  de  Caraman.  Most  of  my  ances 
tors  were  birds  of  prey,  who  used  the  sword  as  the 
eagle  uses  its  beak.  There  was  but  one  exception  in 
the  line — that  of  Riquet,  the  engineer  who  constructed 
the  canal  of  Languedoc.  He,  for  one,  did  something 
really  useful.  I  wish  that  I  could  also  mention,  as 
another  exception,  my  own  father,  one  of  the  chiefs 
of  that  philanthropic  sect  called  the  '  Economists,' 
who  have  formed  a  society  to  make  every  peasant 
rich,  and  who  have  only  succeeded  in  ruining  all  those 
that  have  followed  their  precepts.  That  father  of 
mine  has  published  a  book  entitled  '  The  Friend  of 
Man,'  in  which  he  speaks  with  delirious  enthusiasm 
of  the  charms  of  liberty,  and  in  which  he  shows  how 
all  men  can  live  free  and  happy,  without  carrying  be 
tween  their  teeth  the  curb  and  bit  imposed  by  heaven- 


!  30  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

born  rulers,  and  particularly  without  the  soothing  and 
moralizing  influence  of  the  rack  and  of  the  dungeon. 
But  the  '  Friend  of  Man  '  having  been  the  harshest  of 
despots  under  his  own  roof,  and  having  solicited  and 
obtained  fifty-four  lettres  de  cachet*  against  members 
of  his  own  family,  I  give  him  up  with  respectful  regret, 
and  can  not  say  that  I  have  much  to  brag  of,  as  to  that 
particular  link  in  my  hereditary  chain  of  ancestry'. 

"  I  had  received  from  nature  a  robust  constitution, 
volcanic  passions,  an  ardent  imagination,  a  wonderful 
facility  and  aptitude  for  study,  and  a  prodigious  mem 
ory.  In  the  hands  of  a  mentor,  and  under  the  salu 
tary  influence  of  a  judicious  and  well-regulated  edu 
cation,  I  might  have  avoided  many  errors.  But  it 
was  attempted  to  rule  the  boy  with  the  strong  hand 
of  paternal  despotism.  The  boy  spurned  and  broke 
the  rod,  thus  giving  promise  of  the  man  who  is  the 
sworn  and  implacable  foe  of  arbitrary  power  wher 
ever  it  raises  its  insolent  head.  I  was  born,  I  say, 
with  an  impetuous  temper,  but  susceptible  of  gener 
ous  sentiments.  The  gentle  hand  of  a  skillful  pilot 
would  have  led  me  safely  through  those  storms  by 
which  I  have  been  wrecked  more  than  once.  Un 
fortunately,  I  was  treated  with  extraordinary  harsh 
ness  from  my  infancy,  and  was  irritated  and  goaded 
into  excesses.  Now  that  experience  has  taught  me 
lessons  by  which  I  have  profited,  I  repent,  as  a  son, 
that  I  was  sometimes  rebellious ;  for  paternal  author 
ity  is  the  only  one  which  is  of  divine  right,  even  in  its 
abuses,  and  against  which  insurrection  can  not  be  jus 
tified.  But,  setting  this  aside,  what  have  I  done  that 


*  Arbitrary  orders  of  arrest  issued  in  the  name  of  the  king 
by  one  of  his  ministers. 


A  UBF.R T  D UBA  YET.  1 3 1 

ought  to  stamp  on  my  brow  the  seal  of  Cain's  curse  ? 
What  have  I  done  that  has  not  been  done  by  many 
other  young  men  of  the  same  social  position,  with 
impunity  and  without  reproach,  whilst  every  one  of 
my  delinquencies  has  been  visited  with  extreme  rep 
robation  and  punishment?  Permit  to  the  necessity 
of  self-defense  a  short  review  of  my  life.  I  think  that 
I  can  show  that  I  am  better  than  my  reputation,  and 
that  my  faults  and  sins  have  been  exaggerated  and 
distorted  by  the  malignancy  of  my  enemies. 

"  My  early  youth  was  intrusted  to  the  care  and 
tuition  of  an  excellent  and  learned  man,  called  Pois- 
son,  who  still  lives.  He  can  tell  whether  I  was.  born 
that  monster  I  am  represented  to  be.  He  can  tell 
whether  I  was  not  the  most  studious  and  docile  of 
pupils,  and  whether  my  progress  under  him  was  not 
so  rapid,  that,  when  I  was  withdrawn  from  his  hands 
at  the  age  of  fourteen,  I  was  already  master  of  all  the 
classics,  and  animated  with  the  desire  of  acquiring  a 
larger  stock  of  the  wealth  of  knowledge.  Were  these 
the  indications  of  an  evil  nature  ?  At  the  age  which 
I  have  mentioned,  being  destined  by  my  father  to  the 
profession  of  arms,  I  was  placed  at  a  military  school, 
where  I  studied  mathematics  for  two  years,  and  ob 
tained  some  proficiency  in  the  arts  of  drawing  and 
music.  Tormented  with  the  ambition  of  being  one 
day  a  celebrity  and  the  pride  of  my  country,  I  wrote 
and  published,  before  beard  had  grown  on  my  chin,  a 
eulogy  of  the  Great  Condc,  and  several  pieces  of 
poetry.  Were  these  the  signs  of  the  beast,  and 
ought  not  one,  who  thus  began  his  career,  to  have 
been  encouraged  and  assisted,  instead  of  being  thwart 
ed,  hated,  oppressed,  and  slandered  at  that  time  of 
life  when  the  soul  feels  so  keenly  such  outrages,  par- 


1 32  A  UBER T  D UBA  YE T. 

ticularly  when  they  come  from  a  quarter  where  love, 
or  at  least  justice,  is  expected?  When  at  school,  a 
friend  surprised  me  in  my  chamber  declaiming  with 
ardor :  '  Oh  !  oh  ! '  exclaimed  he,  '  are  you  rehearsing 
the  part  of  Demosthenes?'  'Why  not?'  I  answered. 
'  We  may,  before  I  die,  have  the  States-General  in 
France.'  Well,  fellow-citizens,  my  presentiment  did 
not  deceive  me ;  we  shall  have  the  States-General  in 
a  few  days."  Here  he  paused,  and  lifting  up  his 
hands  toward  heaven,  he  thundered  forth  these  words : 
"And  should  I  be  destined  by  the  Almighty,  in  those 
States-General  representing  the  rights  and  majesty  of 
the  nation,  to  be  the  Demosthenes  of  France  even 
for  the  brief  space  of  two  years,  followed  by  the  sad 
death  and  the  immortality  of  the  Athenian,  I  ask  no 
more,  and  accept  the  decree  of  fate  with  enthusiastic 
gratitude."  This  was  said  in  such  a  manner  that  it 
struck  the  vast  assembly  like  an  electric  shock,  and 
this  time  there  was  heard  but  one  unanimous  shout 
of  acclamation. 

"  Pardon  me,"  continued  the  orator  with  a  voice 
which  had  become  composed,  "  pardon  me  the  ego 
tism  of  these  details.  But  I  am  here  on  my  defense, 
as  you  must  remember.  I  am  here  to  refute  those 
calumnies  which  are  circulated  with  effrontery  to  de 
feat  my  election.  I  resume,  therefore,  the  biograph 
ical  sketch  of  my  life.  At  seventeen  years  of  age  I 
entered  the  army  as  a  sub-lieutenant.  Shortly  after, 
I  had  a  love  intrigue,  unfortunately  accompanied  with 
circumstances  which  gave  it  more  notoriety  than  gen 
erally  waits  on  affairs  of  this  kind.  What  would  most 
of  the  fathers  here  present  have  done?  Taking  into 
consideration  the  extreme  youth  of  their  son,  they 
would  have  gently  reprimanded  him,  and  by  affec- 


A UBER T  D UBA  YET.  133 

tionate  advice  guarded  him  against  the  repetition  of 
such  folly.  But  my  father  obtained  against  me  a 
lettre  de  cachet,  and  had  me  locked  up  in  the  fortress  of 
the  Island  of  Re,  like  a  felon  of  the  worst  character. 
That  was  not  all.  He  had  determined  to  send  me  to 
the  Dutch  colonies  of  India,  where  the  climate  is  al 
most  certain  death  to  Europeans,  and  it  was  with 
considerable  difficulty,  and  only  through  the  earnest 
and  persistent  entreaties  of  friends,  that  he  was  pre 
vented  from  accomplishing  his  purpose.  When  I 
came  out  of  the  dungeon  of  Re,  did  I,  like  young 
men  of  my  rank,  indulge  in  the  excesses  of  an  effete 
and  corrupt  life  ?  No.  I  obtained  permission  to 
make  the  campaign  of  Corsica  as  a  simple  volunteer 
— a  permission  which  was  the  only  one  I  ever  pro 
cured  readily — probably  on  account  of  its  affording 
the  chance  of  my  being  killed.  I  distinguished  my 
self  so  much  in  that  campaign,  that  I  rose  to  be  a 
captain  of  dragoons.  Let  me  here  hasten  to  say, 
that  I  repented  afterward  having  been  an  instrument 
in  a  war  the  object  of  which  was  to  extinguish  the 
liberties  of  a  people ;  and,  to  expiate  the  fault  that  I 
had  committed,  I  wrote  a  memorial  in  which  I  exposed 
and  denounced  the  oppressive  conduct  of  the  Genoese 
invaders,  who  subsequently  sold  that  island  to  France. 
That  memorial  I  submitted  to  my  father,  who  thought 
proper  to  destroy  it. 

"  Reared  with  the  prejudices  of  my  race  and  of  the 
class  to  which  I  belonged,  and  sharing  their  predilec 
tion  for  military  service,  I  wished  to  continue  in  it. 
I  thought  that  I  was  qualified  for  that  profession. 
Five  years  of  my  life  had  been  devoted  to  its  study 
in  all  its  branches,  and  there  was  not  one  single  book 
treating  of  war,  in  any  living  or  dead  language,  that 


134  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T- 

I  had  not  read.  My  robust  constitution  permitted 
me  to  endure  any  hardship  and  fatigue.  I  was  full 
of  ardor  and  daring,  and  at  the  same  time,  phlegmat- 
ically  cool.  Of  this  I  gave  proof  in  all  the  dangers 
to  which  I  found  myself  exposed.  I  felt,  besides, 
that  I  was  gifted  with  an  excellent  and  rapid  coup 
d'ceil.  Boiling  all  over  with  ambition,  it  was  natural 
that  I  should  dream  of  becoming  a  marshal  of  France. 
Why  not?  Stimulated  by  that  hope,  I  urged  my 
father  to  purchase  for  me,  according  to  usage,  the 
colonelcy  of  a  regiment.  He  replied  tauntingly: 
*  Duguesclin  and  Bayard  did  not  thus  begin.'  I  was 
deeply  wounded ;  I  renounced  in  disgust  that  profes 
sion  to  which  my  father  himself  had  destined  me,  and 
in  which,  however,  he  refused  to  give  me  any  assist 
ance.  He  had  changed  his  mind,  it  seems,  and  now 
wished  to  bury  me  in  the  obscure  labors  of  the  ad 
ministration  of  his  estate.  I  obeyed  him,  and  Heaven 
only  knows  what  it  cost  a  man  of  my  temperament 
to  consent  to  such  a  sacrifice  of  my  tastes  and  aspira 
tions  !  Was  that  the  act  of  an  undutiful  son  and  of 
a  bad  man  ?  Thus  I  became  a  farmer  to  please  my 
father,  and  what  was  not  so  creditable,  I  became  a 
pettifogger,  for  I  had  to  play  a  part  in  innumerable 
lawsuits  which  he  contrived  to  have  with  his  neigh 
bors  and  his  tenants. 

"  In  these  conjunctures,  having  been  sent  on  busi 
ness  by  my  father  to  this  city,  I  fell  in  love  with 
Emilie  de  Marignane,  whose  family  you  all  know. 
Was  it  wrong  in  me  to  wish  to  be  married  ?  Was  it 
not  a  proof  that  I  wished  to  escape  from  my  licen 
tious  habits?  My  father  refused,  on  the  ground  that 
I  was  too  bad  a  subject  for  matrimony.  The  marri 
age  took  place,  however,  and,  as  neither  the  family  of 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  j 35 

my  wife,  nor  my  own,  supplied  us  with  the  means  of 
living  according  to  our  rank,  the  consequence  was 
that  I  became  involved  in  debt,  and  conjugal  difficul 
ties  and  quarrels  ensued  in  our  pinched  household, 
as  it  generally  happens  in  such  cases.  My  father,  had 
he  entertained  any  compassion  for  my  youthful  inex 
perience,  could  easily  have  extricated  me  from  my 
troubles.  What  did  he  do  ?  He  obtained  a  lettre  de 
cachet  against  me,  and  had  me  exiled  to  the  chateau  de 
Mirabeau,  and  subsequently  to  the  town  of  Manosque. 
While  thus  exiled,  and  confined  by  order  of  the  govern 
ment  within  the  limits  of  a  small  town  as  a  prison,  I 
ventured  on  a  temporary  absence  from  it,  which  I  hoped 
would  not  be  noticed.  It  was  an  imprudence,  but 
surely  it  was  not  a  crime.  What  was  the  cause  of 
that  imprudence  ?  Was  it  anything  for  which  I  have 
to  blush  ?  No.  I  had  gone  to  the  neighboring  town 
of  Grasse  to  see  a  cherished  sister,  Madam  de  Cabris, 
who  happened  to  be  there  on  a  visit.  Whilst  I  was 
with  her,  she  was  insulted.  I  challenged  the  offender, 
who  had  the  cowardice  to  refuse  to  meet  me.  I  caned 
him.  The  fellow  brought  suit  against  me,  and  ob 
tained  an  order  of  court  to  have  me  arrested  and 
tried  criminally.  What  did  my  father  do  ?  Did  he 
sanction  my  attempt  to  defend  the  honor  of  his 
daughter  and  family?  No.  He  procured  against  me 
another  lettre  de  cachet,  and  had  me  locked  up  in  the 
chateau  D'If.  Mr.  d'All£gre,  the  commandant  of  that 
fortress,  interested  himself  in  my  behalf  as  soon  as 
he  knew  me.  After  a  little  while,  he  wrote  to  my 
father  a  letter,  in  which  he  commended  my  resigna 
tion  and  good  conduct,  and  solicited  him  to  set  me 
free.  What  was  the  result  of  an  application  which 
did  honor  to  the  heart  and  judgment  of  the  gentle- 


1 36  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

man  who  made  it?  My  father,  far  from  listening 
with  favor  to  my  praise,  but  in  order  to  remove  me 
from  the  atmosphere  of  kindness  and  consideration 
which  he  supposed  I  had  secured  for  my  comfort,  had 
me  transferred  to  another  fortress,  that  of  Joux,  near 
Pontarlier. 

"  There  again  my  deportment  so  captivated  the  good 
will  of  the  Count  de  St.  Maurice,  who  commanded 
the  fortress,  that  he  permitted  me  to  have  Pontarlier 
for  a  prison,  and  he  himself  introduced  me  into  the 
best  society  of  that  town.  I  then  wrote  to  my  wife  to 
come  to  me  with  my  son,  but  there  had  been  between 
us,  as  I  have  already  said,  when  I  was  laboring  under 
financial  distress,  some  of  those  differences  which, 
under  such  circumstances,  frequently  visit  the  con 
jugal  roof.  I  was  still  miserably  poor,  and  it  is  not 
astonishing  that  she  refused,  under  different  pretexts, 
to  share  my  fate.  I  do  not  blame  her.  Heroic  de 
votion  and  sacrifices  are  not  things  to  be  expected  in 
the  common  run  of  human  affairs.  She  probably 
acted  wisely ;  but  bear  in  mind,  however,  that  I  in 
vited  her  to  come  to  me,  and  that  she  refused.  It 
was  then  that  I  became  acquainted  with  the  Marquise 
de  Monnier,  a  charming  young  woman  who  had  been 
forced  into  the  arms  of  a  septuagenarian  husband. 
What  happened  is  but  too  well  known.  The  marquis 
instituted  against  me  a  criminal  prosecution  for  hav 
ing  seduced  his  wife ;  and  my  father,  according  to 
his  chronic  habit  of  treating  me  harshly,  solicited  a 
lettre  de  cachet  to  have  me  confined  in  the  citadel  of 
Dourlens.  Under  the  pressure  of  such  dangers,  I 
fled  to  Switzerland,  where  the  marquise  soon  joined 
me.  From  Switzerland  we  went  to  Holland,  where 
I  hid  myself  and  assumed  the  name  of  St.  Mathieu. 


A  UBER T  D UBA  YET.  i^j 

In  the  meantime,  on  the  complaint  and  at  the  re 
quest  of  the  offended  husband,  I  was  condemned  to 
death  in  France  by  default,  executed  in  effigy,  and 
all  that  I  possessed  was  confiscated.  I  had  hoped  to 
be  forgotten  in  Holland,  where,  to  earn  a  precarious 
living  for  the  object  of  my  love  and  for  myself,  I 
worked  without  interruption  in  a  garret  from  six 
o'clock  in  the  morning  until  nine  in  the  evening.  I 
was  a  miserable  drudge  hired  by  booksellers,  and  I 
manufactured  books  according  to  their  directions.  I 
was  even  preparing  to  embark  for  free  America,  when 
my  father,  armed  with  the  authority  of  one  of  those 
lettres  de  cachet,  of  which  his  pockets  were  always  full, 
caused  the  law  of  nations  and  the  sanctity  of  a  for 
eign  and  independent  territory  to  be  violated,  and, 
having  procured  my  arrest  through  the  instrumental 
ity  of  some  French  police  officers,  had  me  incarcer 
ated  in  the  dungeon  of  Vincennes,  where  I  remained 
four  years ! 

"  When  I  was  restored  to  liberty,  what  did  I  do  ? 
I  was  poor  and  without  a  friend,  and  Sophie,  Mar 
quise  de  Monnier,  who  had  suffered  so  much  for  me, 
was  a  prisoner  in  a  convent.  In  our  joint  interest  I 
went  to  Pontarlier  to  cause  to  be  revoked  the  sen 
tence  pronounced  against  us,  condemning  her  to  re- 
elusion  in  a  cloister,  and  me,  to  lose  my  head  on  the 
scaffold.  On  the  day  of  the  trial,  I  appeared  before 
the  tribunal  with  a  lock  of  her  hair  on  my  breast  to 
inspire  me,  and  a  dose  of  active  poison  in  my  pocket, 
to  put  an  end  to  my  existence  if  I  failed  to  have  us 
both  re-established  in  our  civil  rights.  It  was  not 
even  possible  for  me  to  secure  the  services  of  one 
single  member  of  the  bar.  I  stood  before  my  judges 
without  that  professional  assistance  which  is  always 


138  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

vouchsafed  to  the  accused,  and  I  confronted  my  ene 
mies  alone,  penniless,  friendless,  and  in  chains.  It  is 
reported,  however,  that  I  pleaded  my  own  cause  with 
stupendous  eloquence  and  energy.  I  struck  terror 
into  my  adversaries,  I  melted  a  prejudiced  audience 
into  tears,  and  the  result  was,  a  compromise  between 
the  Marquis  de  Monnier  and  myself,  by  which  all 
the  proceedings  against  me  were  withdrawn  and  an 
nulled,  and  his  wife  obtained  the  restitution  of  her 
dowry  and  her  liberty.  Was  this  the  conduct  of  a 
cowardly  monster?  I  had  been,  it  is  true,  the  author 
of  a  great  scandal,  but  did  I  not  cruelly  suffer  for  it  ? 
And  did  I  not  try  to  repair  it  as  much  as  was  in  my 
power?  After  having  acted  toward  Madam  de 
Monnier  as  it  was  my  duty  to  do,  I  turned  to  my 
wife,  and  again  made  repeated  efforts  to  bring  her 
back  to  my  arms.  '  Eight  years  have  elapsed/  I 
wrote  to  her,  '  since  we  were  separated.  They  have 
sobered  my  evil  passions,  ripened  my  judgment,  and 
improved  my  morals.  It  is  with  difficulty  that  I 
shall  believe  that  eight  years  of  incessant  adversity, 
which  would  be  a  sacred  title  to  the  compassion  of 
any  kind  and  benevolent  heart,  have  driven  me  from 
yours.'  My  wife,  however,  resisted  all  the  appeals  that 
I  made  to  her,  but  so  anxious  was  I  to  resume  those 
conjugal  duties  which,  in  better  days,  I  had  sworn 
and  failed  to  fulfill,  that  I  applied  to  the  tribunals  of 
the  country  to  compel  Madam  de  Mirabeau  to  return 
to  my  domicile  and  protection.  My  efforts  were  vain, 
it  is  true,  and  a  final  separation  was  pronounced  be 
tween  us.  But  then,  let  it  be  no  longer  said  that  I 
have  not  done  all  that  I  could  to  repair  the  wrongs 
of  which  I  had  been  guilty. 

"  The  greater  portion  of  my  life  has  been  spent  in 


A  UBEK  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


139 


captivity  and  in  sorrow,  in  incredible  destitution  and 
intense  labor.  I  am  one  of  the  most  prolific  writers  of 
Ihe  age,  although  I  have  reached  only  the  meridian 
of  life.  I  spare  you  the  long  list  of  my  publications. 
Those  of  my  works  which  treat  of  financial,  historical, 
and  political  subjects,  and  in  which,  under  the  eye 
and  within  the  hearing  of  despotism,  I  have  been 
the  boldest  advocate  of  liberty  and  liberal  institu 
tions,  have  gained  for  me  a  reputation  of  which  I 
may  well  be  proud." 

"  And  your  infamous  novels !  "  cried  a  voice  from 
the  crowd.  "  What  do  you  say  of  them  ?  " 

Mirabeau  paused,  and  looking  at  the  point  in  the 
assembly  from  which  the  interruption  had  sprung, 
said  with  a  tone  and  a  gesture  of  dignified  courtesy  : 
"  Whoever  he  may  be,  who  has  thus  apostrophized 
me,  I  thank  him  for  it,  because  it  gives  me  a  fit  op 
portunity  to  denounce  and  reprobate  those  works 
which  he  rightly  denominates  infamous.  I  wish  I 
could  efface  with  my  blood  every  line  of  them.  To 
have  composed  them,  is  the  only  act  of  my  life  of 
which  I  am  disposed  to  repent  in  ashes  and  sackcloth. 
There  is  no  justification  for  it ;  but  there  may  be  an 
excuse,  or  rather  a  sort  of  palliation.  She  who  had 
sacrificed  so  much  for  me  was  starving  without  a 
murmur  in  a  foreign  land ;  and  the  tempter,  in  the 
shape  of  a  bookseller,  said  to  me :  '  Here  is  bread ; 
but,  in  exchange  for  it,  you  must  give  me  licentious 
and  sensational  novels  which  will  sell.'  You  have  the 
whole  story,  on  my  honor;  and  you  have  also  the  as 
surance  of  my  sincere  contrition  and  repentance.  I 
hope  that  I  shall  make  amends  for  my  guilt,  by  the 
services  which  I  have  the  consciousness  of  rendering 
one  day  to  France  and  to  humanity." 


1 40  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

Mirabcau  paused  again,  and  seemed  to  look  thought 
fully  back  into  the  depths  of  his  memory,  to  ascertain 
if  he  had  forgotten  any  one  of  the  many  accusations 
brought  against  him,  and  then  resumed  his  discourse 
in  these  words:  "  I  believe  that  I  have  made  to  you 
a  full  confession,  on  which  I  invite  you  to  pass  judg 
ment,  and  to  decide  whether  I  am  too  depraved  to 
be  your  representative  in  that  great  assembly  which 
is  soon  to  convene,  and  on  which  will  hang  the  des 
tinies  of  France.  When  the  nobles  of  Provence  met 
to  deliberate  on  the  choice  of  their  delegates  to  the 
States-General  and  on  the  instructions  to  be  given  to 
them,  being  one  of  their  order,  I  thought  that  it  was 
my  duty  to  join  their  meeting,  to  show  myself  among 
my  peers,  with  the  intention  of  urging  them  to  a 
course  of  action  which  would  have  been  conducive 
to  their  own  interests  and  to  those  of  the  people  at 
large,  of  whom  they  could  easily  have  become  the  bene 
factors,  instead  of  being  the  oppressors.  I  wanted  to 
tell  them  that  the  patience  of  the  people  had  held  out 
during  centuries,  but  that  it  was  now  exhausted  to  the 
last  drop.  I  had  intended  to  recommend  the  volun 
tary  abolition  on  their  part  of  the  absurd  and  hateful 
privileges  which  they  possess,  and  which  are  incom 
patible  with  the  progressive  civilization  of  the  age. 
But  they  spared  me  the  trouble ;  they  declared  that 
I  was  too  immoral  and  too  much  of  a  free-thinker  to 
be  admitted  and  recognized  as  one  of  their  immacu 
late  body.  Very  well !  I  accepted  their  decision. 
But,  if  I  had  ceased  to  be  a  nobleman,  what  was  I  ? 
Surely  they  could  not  have  made  me  a  mere  non 
entity.  I  was  a  sentient  being,  and  entitled  as  such, 
I  thought,  to  be  something  appertaining  to  human 
nature,  however  humble  and  insignificant  that  some- 


A  UBER T  D USA  YET.  14 1 

thing  might  be.  If  no  longer  Count  de  Mirabeau,  I 
remained  at  least  Mirabeau  the  man — Mirabeau  the 
plebeian.  I,  therefore,  acted  immediately  in  accord 
ance  with  my  new  position  in  society.  Opening  a 
shop  in  your  city,  I  wrote  on  its  front:  'Mirabeau, 
Draper,  and  casting  aside  the  purple  mantle  of  the 
patrician,  I  stand  before  you,  in  the  garb  and  char 
acter  of  a  cloth  merchant,  a  candidate  for  your 
suffrages,  with  the  hope,  if  I  obtain  them,  of  being 
acknowledged  before  long  and  proclaimed  the  tribune 
of  the  people  in  the  States-General  of  France. 

"  I  will  now  sum  up,  in  conclusion,  this  review  of  my 
life  which  I  have  laid  before  you  without  conceal 
ment.  I  think  that,  judging  of  it  impartially,  I  can 
say :  no  doubt  my  youth  was  a  stormy  one.  I  have, 
through  the  fault  of  others,  and  particularly  through 
my  own,  committed  many  errors.  Few  men,  in  their 
private  life,  have  offered  a  fairer  opportunity  and 
more  plausible  and  abundant  pretexts  for  calumny  to 
seize  upon  their  acts,  and  add  darker  shades  to  their 
dark  sides ;  but  I  dare  assert  here,  that  no  one  who 
aspires  to  be  a  public  man,  has  a  better  right  than  I 
have  to  claim  the  possession  of  courageous  senti 
ments,  disinterested  views,  stern  independence  of 
character,  and  uniform  inflexibility  of  principles.  My 
errors,  my  qualities,  and  my  defects,  my  reverses  and 
my  successes,  have  equally  contributed  to  fit  me  to  be 
the  champion  of  liberty.  I  have  learned,  practically 
and  theoretically,  to  love  her  and  to  hate  despotism, 
in  the  dungeon  of  Vincennes  and  in  the  different 
fortresses  where  I  was  arbitrarily  confined  so  many 
years.  I  challenge  all  and  every  one  here  to  desig 
nate,  if  they  can,  one  single  act,  line,  or  speech  of 
mine,  when  either  free  or  in  captivity,  which  does  not 


1 42  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

show  a  grand  and  energetic  love  of  liberty.  And 
could  it  be  otherwise  ?  I  count  fifty-four  lettres  de 
cachet  issued  during  my  lifetime  against  members  of 
my  family,  of  which  seventeen  were  to  my  address. 
But  if  the  love  of  liberty  has  been  to  me  the  source 
of  more  than  one  keen  and  deep-felt  enjoyment,  I 
must  confess  that  it  has  also  inflicted  exquisite  tor 
ments,  which  it  is  now  neither  the  proper  place  nor 
the  opportune  time  to  explain.  Such  as  they  are,  I 
have  cheerfully  accepted  them.  It  is  not  to-day  that 
1  have  to  learn  that  he  who  aspires  to  benefit  the 
human  race,  must  be  prepared,  in  secret,  or  in  public, 
for  the  agony  of  inevitable  martyrdom. 

"  One  reproach  to  me,  fellow-citizens,  I  must  notice. 
It  is  said  that  I  am  proud.  Aye,  I  am  proud — proud 
of  the  consciousness  of  my  courage,  of  my  strength, 
of  the  rectitude  of  my  intentions — proud  even  of  the 
injustices  and  persecutions  of  which  I  have  been  the 
object ;  and  I  confess  that  I  am  but  little  humiliated 
by  my  innumerable  faults  and  defects,  because  they  do 
not,  after  all,  in  any  way  cast  a  stain  on  my  honor. 

"  The  nobles  who  rejected  me  as  unworthy  of  be 
longing  to  their  body,  now  call  me  the  plebeian  count. 
I  accept  the  title ;  and,  so  help  me  God,  I  will  make 
them  remember  it  forever.  Let  them  know  that  the 
exile  they  have  cast  off  like  a  wandering  beggar,  has 
found  hospitality  and  fraternity  among  those  hewers 
of  wood  and  drawers  of  water  who  are  the  objects  of 
their  contempt,  and  that  no  Coriolanus  will  ever  have 
shown  himself  a  more  valuable  and  grateful  guest  to 
those  whose  tents  afforded  him  shelter!  Let  those 
nobles  know  that,  henceforth,  between  them  and  me 
there  is  an  impassable  gulf  ;  for  the  king  is  their  mas- 
ter,  and  the  people  are  mine ;  let  them  send  to  the 


A  UBER T  D UBA  YET.  j^ -j 

States-General  the  best  and  the  proudest  knight  they 
can  find  in  their  ranks,  as  the  representative  of  their 
privileged  class  !  I  will  meet  him  there  without  fear, 
as  the  representative  of  the  unprivileged  masses,  and 
fling  at  the  feet  of  despotism  the  gauntlet  of  liberty." 
Here  he  was  interrupted  by  a  hurricane  of  clamorous 
applause.  When  it  died  away,  "  Fellow-citizens,"  he 
said,  "  in  all  countries  and  in  all  ages,  the  aristocrats 
have  implacably  hunted  down  the  friends  of  the  peo 
ple  ;  and  if,  by  some  fortunate  and  unaccountable 
circumstance  or  accident,  there  arose  one  out  of  their 
own  privileged  order,  it  is  he  at  whom  they  have 
struck  with  more  vigorous  hatred,  thereby  showing 
their  eagerness  and  avidity  to  inspire  terror  by  the  se 
lection  of  the  victim  whom  they  deemed  it  sound 
policy  to  immolate  to  the  necessity  of  self-defense. 
Thus  died  the  last  of  the  Gracchi  from  patrician 
hands.  But,  having  fallen  under  the  mortal  blow,  he 
grasped  a  handful  of  the  dust  of  the  ground  on  which 
his  noble  form  was  prostrate,  and,  flinging  it  toward 
heaven,  he  invoked  the  vengeance  of  the  gods.  Of 
that  dust  was  born  the  plebeian  Marius — Marius! 
less  great  for  having  exterminated  the  Cimbri,  than 
for  having  crushed  in  Rome  the  aristocracy  of  the 
nobility."  Peals  after  peals  of  thundering  acclama 
tions  proved  to  the  orator  that  he  had  struck  the 
right  chord. 

"  Fellow-citizens,"  he  continued,  "  I  am  informed 
that  the  governor  of  this  province,  the  Marquis  de 
Caraman,  a  dear  kinsman  of  mine,  by-the-by,  at  the 
request  of  the  nobility,  who  think  that  they  see  in  me 
a  second  Marius,  intends  to  have  me  secretly  kid 
napped  and  carried  to  the  East  Indies.  Let  him 
dare  !  " 


A  UBER T  D UBA  YE T. 

"  Let  him  dare  !  "  shouted  the  infuriated  multitude, 
with  ferocious  gesticulations.  "  Down  with  all  the 
nobles !" 

A  grim  smile  flitted  over  the  lips  of  Mirabeau. 
"  He  will  not  dare  !  "  he  said  ;  "  resume  your  com 
posure.  I  have  no  more  to  say  beyond  giving  you 
the  assurance  that,  if  you  think  me  worthy  of  being 
your  representative,  and  send  me  to  the  States-Gen 
eral,  I,  Honore  Gabriel  Riquetti  de  Mirabeau,  nick 
named  the  plebeian  count,  solemnly  pledge  myself  be 
fore  God  and  man,  that,  following  the  example  of 
Marius  in  Rome,  I  will  level  to  the  ground  in  Ver 
sailles  the  aristocracy  of  France ;  that  I  will  wipe  out 
every  vestige  of  feudality  from  the  fair  bosom  of  our 
mother-land ;  and  that  I  will  establish  the  equality, 
fraternity,  and  liberty  which  we  all  desire,  on  the 
broad  basis  of  national  prosperity."  There  was  a 
rush  of  the  people  toward  the  platform  with  a  roar 
like  that  of  the  ocean.  The  orator  was  taken  up  in 
their  arms,  carried  in  triumph  all  round  the  public 
square,  and  then  to  his  residence.  Not  only  was  he 
elected  by  the  city  of  Aix,  the  old  capital  of  Provence, 
but  also  by  Marseilles,  which  the  echo  of  that  eloquent 
voice  had  reached,  and  he  had  to  choose  between  the 
two.  It  was  Aix — the  scene  of  his  first  triumph. 

Before' leaving  Aix,  Aubert  Dubayet  had  the  good 
fortune  to  be  introduced  to  Mirabeau,  who  seemed  to 
take  great  pleasure  in  conversing  with  him  on  Amer 
ican  affairs.  Dubayet  complimented  him  on  his  ora- 
torial  success  and  expressed  his  admiration.  "  Pshaw, 
pshaw!"  said  Mirabeau;  "it  was  all  nonsense  and 
clap-trap.  But  come  to  Versailles,  wait  until  I  have 
taken  my  seat  in  the  States-General,  and  then  you 
will  hear  something  worthy  of  being  remembered." 


CHAPTER   XI. 

REPUBLICANISM    AND    ROYALISM — THE    RED    CAP 
AND   THE   BASTILE. 

A  SHORT  time  after  this  interview  with  Mirabeau, 
Aubert  Dubayet  went  to  Versailles  to  witness  the  in 
auguration  of  the  States-General.  The  first  man  he 
met  was  Lakanal,  who  had  hastened  from  Toulouse 
to  be  present  at  the  accomplishment  of  that  great 
event.  The  two  friends  embraced  each  other  ten 
derly.  "  What  news  ?  "  asked  Lakanal.  "  What  news 
from  America  in  particular  ?  For  I  know  that  you 
keep  up  an  active  correspondence  with  that  country." 

"  Well,"  answered  Dubayet,  "  they  are  going  on  as 
smoothly  as  might  be  expected  under  a  new  and  un 
tried  form  of  government.  Many  look  forward  to 
unparalleled  prosperity  and  liberty  with  the  most 
buoyant  confidence.  Many,  on  the  other  hand,  have 
doubts  and  apprehensions." 

"  Incredible  !  "  exclaimed  Lakanal.  "  I  have  read 
and  closely  studied  their  federal  constitution.  It 
seems  perfection  itself." 

"  To  you,  no  doubt,  my  friend,  with  your  imagina 
tive  and  ardent  temperament,"  said  Dubayet.  "  Be 
sides,  distance  lends  enchantment  to  the  scene.  But 
the  Americans  are  a  practical,  sagacious,  and  cool- 
headed  people.  Remember  that  the  constitution, 
about  which  you  think  there  can  be  but  one  opinion, 
has  met  with  violent  opposition  from  a  host  of  those 
7 


1 46  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

who  were  to  live  under  its  protecting  shield.  It  be 
came  the  subject  of  the  fiercest  discussions  in  the 
general  assembly  which  framed  it  and  in  the  State  con 
ventions.  Do  not  forget  that  only  three  insignificant 
States,  New  Jersey,  Delaware,  and  Georgia,  accepted 
it  unanimously,  and  that  several  of  the  most  impor 
tant  States  adopted  it  by  a  mere  majority ;  five  of  them 
under  an  expressed  expectation  of  specified  amend 
ments  or  modifications,  while  two  States,  Rhode  Island 
and  North  Carolina,  stood  aloof  a  long  time." 

"Good  God!  What  can  be  the  objections  ?"  ex 
claimed  Lakanal. 

"  It  would  be  too  long  to  enumerate  them,"  replied 
Dubayet.  "  Suffice  it  to  say,  that  some  feared  that 
the  Federal  Government  would  have  too  little  control 
over  the  individual  States,  and  that  their  political  con 
nection  would  prove  too  weak  to  preserve  order,  pre 
vent  civil  strife,  and  insure  the  duration  of  the  repub 
lic  ;  whilst  others  thought  that  it  would  be  too  strong 
for  their  separate  existence,  and  would  tend  toward 
consolidation  and  despotism.  Such  diametrically  an 
tagonistic  opinions  are,  as  you  see,  entirely  irrecon 
cilable.  Time  will  show  which  is  right." 

Lakanal  shook  his  fist  with  wrath.  "  I  am  disap 
pointed  in  the  Americans,"  he  said.  "  If  they  had 
chopped  off  the  heads  of  a  few  leading  traitors,  it 
would  have  been  a  salutary  warning  to  the  rest,  and 
things  would  have  worked  more  harmoniously.  But, 
on  the  contrary,  they  have  encouraged  those  aristo 
crats  by  bestowing  on  them  some  of  the  highest  offices 
within  their  gift.  I,  in  their  place,  would  have  cut  off 
the  heads  of  Alexander  Hamilton  and  John  Adams." 

"  Softly,  softly,"  interposed  Dubayet.  "  To  cut  off 
men's  heads  is  not  the  best  way  to  convince  them  of 


A UBER T  D UBA  YET. 

their  errors.  It  is  rather  a  strange  sort  of  eccentricity 
to  kill  people  in  order  to  teach  them  how  to  live  and 
to  improve.  Surely,  this  is  not  what  you  will  pre 
sume  to  call  Christianity  and  republicanism.  Besides, 
you  are  unjust  to  Alexander  Hamilton  and  to  John 
Adams.  Both  are  staunch  lovers  of  liberty  and  inflex 
ible  advocates  of  the  rights  of  man,  although  not  so 
incandescent  and  so  ultra  as  you  are.  It  is  true  that, 
in  the  Philadelphia  convention,  Alexander  Hamilton 
held  up  the  British  constitution  as  a  model  to  be  ap 
proached  as  nearly  as  possible,  by  blending  some  of 
the  advantages  of  monarchy  with  the  republican  form. 
It  is  true  that  he  thinks  that  the  constitution  finally 
adopted  is  too  low-toned ;  it  is  true  that  he  fears  it 
may  prove  feeble  and  inefficient ;  but  still,  as  a  great 
statesman,  which  he  undoubtedly  is,  he  voted  for  it  as 
the  best  attainable  under  existing  circumstances,  ad 
vocated  it  in  the  convention  of  his  own  State,  and 
supported  it  in  a  series  of  essays,  written  conjunctively 
with  Madison  and  Jay,  and  collectively  known  as  the 
'  Federalist ' — an  admirable  work,  which,  by-the-by,  I 
advise  you  to  procure  and  to  study  attentively.  You 
must  also  bear  in  mind  that  it  was  mainly  through 
his  efforts,  as  a  speaker  and  writer,  that  the  constitu 
tion  which  you  appreciate  so  warmly  was  ultimately 
adopted.  I  admit  that  many  still  consider  him  a 
monarchist  at  heart,  and  suspect  him  of  a  design  to 
substitute  royalty  for  the  present  form  of  government; 
but  I  think  that  in  this  supposition  they  do  him  in 
justice.  He  may  doubt  the  healthful  realization  of 
republican  theories,  but  I  am  convinced  that  he  wishes 
to  give  them  a  fair  trial,  as  long  as  there  may  be  any 
chance  of  success." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Lakanal,  "  but  I  hope  that  you 


148  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

will  at  least  give  up  that  uncouth  compound  of  the 
plebeian  born  and  of  the  would-be  patrician — that 
puritanic  worshipper  of  aristocracy — yclept  John 
Adams.  Have  I  not  read  with  my  own  eyes  his  ad 
vice  to  Washington  as  to  the  stately  forms  which  he 
wishes  to  be  introduced  in  the  performance  of  the 
functions  of  President?  Does  he  not  talk  glibly  of 
chamberlains,  aides-de-camp,  masters  of  ceremonies, 
and  the  like  gilded  gewgaws  ?  "  And  he  drew  from  his 
pocket  a  journal  from  which  he  read  :  "  '  The  office  of 
President,'  thus  writes  John  Adams,  '  by  its  legal  au 
thority  defined  in  the  constitution,  has  no  equal  in  the 
world,  excepting  those  only  which  are  held  by  crowned 
heads ;  nor  is  the  royal  authority  in  all  cases  to  be 
compared  to  it.  The  royal  office  in  Poland  is  a  mere 
shadow  in  comparison  with  it.  The  dogeship  in 
Venice  and  the  stadtholdership  in  Holland  are  not 
so  much.  Neither  dignity  nor  authority  can  be  sup 
ported  in  human  minds  collected  into  nations,  or  any 
great  numbers,  without  a  splendor  and  majesty  in 
some  degree  proportioned  to  them.  The  sending  and 
receiving  of  ambassadors  is  one  of  the  most  splendid 
and  important  prerogatives  of  sovereigns,  absolute  or 
limited,  and  this  in  our  constitution  is  wholly  in  the 
President.  If  the  state  and  pomp  essential  to  this 
great  department  are  not  in  a  good  degree  preserved, 
it  will  be  in  vain  for  America  to  hope  for  consideration 
with  foreign  powers.' 

"  This  is  the  impeachment  I  bring  against  him," 
continued  Lakanal.  "  I  now  wait  for  your  defense  of 
the  culprit  I  have  arraigned." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Dubayet,  "  and  read  in  the  same 
journal  that  part  of  the  writing  in  which  Adams  in 
genuously  confesses  that  'his  long  residence  abroad 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE T. 

may  have  impressed  him  with  views  of  things  incom 
patible  with  the  present  temper  and  feelings  of  his 
countrymen,'  and  it  is  not,  therefore,  astonishing  that 
Jefferson  should  have  said  of  that  great  son  of  Massa 
chusetts,  'that*  the  glare  of  royalty  and  nobility,  dur-. 
ing  his  mission  to  England,  had  made  him  believe 
their  fascination  a  necessary  ingredient  in  govern 
ment.'  But  this  does  not  prevent  him  from  retaining 
the  confidence  of  the  people,  and  his  merits  are  such 
that  some  allowance  may  well  be  made  for  trifling 
errors  of  judgment.  Some  irregularities  of  movements 
are  observed  even  in  the  celestial  bodies  which  adorn 
the  vault  of  heaven,  and  yet  do  they  cease  for  all  that 
to  be  those  luminous  orbs  at  which  we  gaze  with  so 
much  wonder?" 

"The  man  to  my  taste,"  said  Lakanal,  "is  Thomas 
Jefferson.  He  is  a  true  patriot  and  republican.  I 
heard  him  say :  '  The  termsf  of  Excellency,  Honor, 
Worship,  Esquire,  should  forever  disappear  from 
among  us.  I  wish  that  of  Mr.  would  follow  them.' 
This  I  thought  worthy  of  the  best  days  of  Rome, 
and  I  suggested  that  there  should  be  no  other  prefix 
to  names  than  that  of  citizen  :  '  Citizen  Brutus,  citi 
zen  Cassius,  and  citizen  Jefferson.'  He  tapped  me 
on  the  shoulder  approvingly." 

Aubert  Dubayet  smiled.  "  I  have  no  doubt,"  he 
said,  "  that  citizen  Jefferson  will  contrive  in  due  time 
to  be  President  of  the  United  States." 

"  Amen  !  "  responded  Lakanal,  and  the  two  friends 
parted. 

Aubert  Dubayet  called  on  Tintin  Calandro,  who, 


*  Jefferson's  Works,  vol.  ix.,  p.  97. 

t  Letter  to  Mr.  Carmichael,  JelTerson's  Works,  vol.  iii.,  p.  88. 


150  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

to  his  utter  amazement,  received  him  with  some  as 
perity  of  manner.  "  What  is  the  matter?"  inquired 
Dubayet,  with  tears  in  his  eyes.  "  How  can  I  have 
offended  you  ?  " 

"  Excuse  me,"  said  Tintin.  "I  am  laboring  under 
the  effect  of  intense  indignation.  I  can  hardly  for 
give  you  for  the  part  you  have  taken  in  establishing 
this  new  republic  of  America,  which  will  become  for 
the  whole  world  worse  than  Pandora's  box.  Like  the 
simoon,  it  will  wither  and  level  to  the  ground  all  that 
is  noble  and  respected.  What  do  you  think  I  heard 
last  night  ?  The  princess  de  Lamballe  had  the  kind 
ness  to  lend  her  musicians  to  Thomas  Jefferson,  the 
minister  plenipotentiary  of  the  republic,  to  perform 
at  a  festival  which  he  gave.  During  one  of  those  in 
tervals  when  the  orchestra  was  not  called  to  play,  I 
sauntered  into  the  garden  of  the  mansion,  and  I  hap 
pened  to  be  behind  an  arbor  when  the  minister  came 
with  his  secretary  of  legation,  Colonel  Humphreys, 
whom  he  was  sending  to  Washington  as  bearer  of 
dispatches,  and  who  was  to  depart  at  day-break.  He 
stopped  near  the  spot  where  I  was,  and  I  heard  him 
say,  among  other  things,  to  the  colonel,  on  dismissing 
him  :  '  Tell  *  our  friends  at  home  to  besiege  the  throne 
of  Heaven  with  eternal  prayers  to  extirpate  from 
creation  this  class  of  human  lions,  tigers,  and  mam 
moths,  called  kings,  from  whom,  let  him  perish  who 
does  not  say,  good  Lord  deliver  us.'  What  do  you 
think  of  that?  Saint  Louis  was  a  tiger;  Isabella 
the  Catholic  and  Blanche  of  Castile  were  hyenas ; 
Titus  and  Marcus  Aurelius  were  lions,  and  our  own 
magnanimous  Henry  IV.  a  mammoth,  because  Provi- 


*  Jefferson's  Letter  to  Colonel  Humphreys. 


A  USER  T  D UBA  YET.  !  5  ! 

dence  destined  them  to  be  kings,  emperors,  and 
queens.  They  ought  to  have  been  exterminated  to 
make  way,  I  presume,  to  such  blessings  as  this  sacri 
legious  demagogue  would  shower  upon  the  world  ; 
and  all  those  who  do  not  agree  in  opinion  with  this 
precious  apostle  of  a  new  political  religion  ought  to 
perish.  So  says  Thomas  Jefferson,  the  immaculate 
and  the  infallible,  and  the  whip-in-hand  democratic 
driver  of  a  gang  of  poor  black  slaves  who  toil  and  breed 
for  his  exclusive  benefit !  Here  is  humility,  humanity, 
and  liberty  for  you  with  a  vengeance  !  Accursed  be 
that  whelp  of  Satan  !  Accursed  be  that  fiend,  drunk 
on  the  fumes  of  his  own  ferocious  and  inordinate 
pride  !  I  wish  I  could  chain  him  forever  at  the  bot 
tom  of  the  deepest  and  darkest  dungeon  of  Christen 
dom  ! " 

"Alas!  "  exclaimed  Dubayet,  pressing  his  incensed 
friend  in  his  arms,  "  what  a  future  I  foresee  for  France ! 
I  have  just  left  the  republican  Lakanal.  He  talks  of 
nothing  but  cutting  off  heads,  and  you,  a  royalist, 
would  doom  your  opponents  to  the  tender  mercies  of 
a  Bastile.  You  are  both  the  striking  types  of  a  popu 
lation  whose  one  half  seeks  liberty  without  knowing 
what  it  is,  and  whose  other  half  strives  to  retain  what 
it  would  be  but  justice  and  good  policy  to  abandon." 


CHAPTER  XII. 

SCENES  IN  THE  NATIONAL  ASSEMBLY  OF  FRANCE — 
MIRABEAU  TAKES  THE  LEAD — HIS  INTERVIEW 
WITH  MORRIS,  THE  MINISTER  PLENIPOTENTIA 
RY  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES. 

LOUIS  XVI.  opened  the  States-General  at  Ver 
sailles  on  the  5th  of  May,  1789.  But  the  nobility,  the 
clergy,  and  the  commons,  of  which  they  were  com 
posed  as  three  distinct  orders,  refused  to  meet  as  pre 
scribed,  and  failed  to  work  harmoniously.  The  com 
mons,  who  were  the  most  numerous  and  felt  them 
selves  the  most  powerful,  determined  to  proceed  with 
their  task  without  the  other  orders,  should  these  re 
fuse  to  meet  them  in  a  one  and  single  assembly. 
They  further  resolved  to  adopt  another  name  than 
that  of  States-General,  which,  in  their  opinion,  was 
no  longer  applicable.  Mirabeau  proposed  that  they 
should  call  themselves  "  representatives  of  the  peo 
ple."  This  word  people  was  the  object  of  acrimonious 
discussions. 

"I  care  very  little,"  said  Mirabeau,  on  that  occa 
sion,  "about  the  signification  of  words  in  the  absurd 
vocabulary  of  prejudice.  I  have  tried  to  speak  here 
the  language  of  liberty,  and  I  relied  on  the  example 
given  by  the  English  and  the  Americans,  who  have 
always  honored  the  word  people,  and  who  have  al 
ways  consecrated  it  in  their  declarations  of  rights,  in 
(152) 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  ! 53 

their  laws,  and  in  their  political  institutions.  When 
Chatham  condensed  into  one  word  the  charter  of  na 
tions  and  said  :  '  The  majesty  of  the  people '/  when  the 
Americans  asserted  the  natural  rights  of  the  people  in 
opposition  to  the  trashy  disquisitions  of  superannu 
ated  publicists,  they  acknowledged  and  proclaimed 
all  the  signification,  all  the  energy  of  that  expression, 
to  which  liberty  gives  so  much  value.  Are  you  afraid 
that  it  may  be  construed  into  the  meaning  of  the 
Latin  word  vulgus,  instead  of  populus,  or  the  English 
word  mob,  or  what,  in  our  own  language,  all  aristo 
crats,  whether  noble  or  not,  insolently  call  the  can 
aille  f 

"  Representatives  of  the  people,  will  you  deign  to 
answer  me  this  question?  Will  you  go  back  to  your 
constituents  and  tell  them  that  you  have  repudiated 
and  ostracised  the  name  people,  which  belongs  to  you 
all  in  common?  Will  you  confess  that,  if  you  have 
not  been  ashamed  of  them,  you  have  tried,  however, 
to  elude  an  appellation  which  is  too  low  for  your  ac 
ceptance  ?  Will  you  declare  that  you  covet  a  more 
brilliant  denomination  than  the  one  which  they  have 
conferred  upon  you  ?  Do  you  not  see  that  the  name 
of  '  representatives  of  the  people  '  is  necessary  to  you, 
because  it  endears  you  to  the  people — that  imposing 
mass  without  which  you  would  only  be  individualities 
and  fragile  rods  that  would  be  broken  one  by  one  ? 
Do  you  not  see  that  you  need  the  name  people,  be 
cause  it  will  make  it  known  to  the  people  that  you 
have  indissolubly  bound  your  fate  to  theirs,  and  be 
cause  it  will  teach  them  to  look  on  you  as  the  sole 
objects  of  their  thoughts  and  their  hopes? 

"  More  skillful  than  we  are,  the  Batavian  heroes 
who  won  and  established  the  liberty  and  independ- 
7* 


I  54  A  USER  T  DUB  A  YET. 

ence  of  their  country,  took  the  name  of  beggars. 
They  wanted  no  other  name,  because  their  tyrants 
had  contemptuously  pretended  to  degrade  them  with 
it,  and  that  name,  endearing  them  to  that  immense 
mass  which  aristocracy  and  despotism  loved  to  vilify, 
was  at  the  same  time  their  strength,  their  glory,  and 
the  guaranty  of  their  success.  The  friends  of  liberty 
choose  the  name  which  serves  them  the  best,  and  not 
the  one  which  flatters  them  the  most.  They  will  call 
themselves  malcontents  in  America,  cowboys  in  Swit 
zerland,  and  beggars  in  the  Low  Countries.  They  will 
adorn  themselves  with  the  injurious  designations  with 
which  they  are  reproved  by  their  enemies  ;  they  will 
thus  deprive  those  enemies  of  the  power  of  humiliat 
ing  them  with  expressions  which  they  will  know  how 
to  change  into  titles  of  honor !  " 

These  sentiments  were  received  with  shouts  of  de 
rision  and  disapprobation  from  several  sides  of  the 
Assembly,  and  from  many  of  the  spectators  in  the  gal 
leries.  "  Down  with  the  demagogue ! "  cried  one. 
"  Send  him  to  harangue  in  the  fish  market,"  cried  an 
other.  Vociferations  followed  vociferations,  and  the 
confusion  reached  its  height.  "  Silence  ! "  thundered 
Mirabeau,  in  the  commanding  tone  of  a  master. 
"  Silence  !  Learn  to  discuss  with  calmness  and  with 
freedom,  if  you  wish  to  be  free.  I  assume  the  whole 
responsibility  of  what  I  have  said.  If  there  is  any 
guilt  in  my  speech,  welcome  be  the  trial,  the  judg 
ment,  and  the  punishment !  I  will  write  down,  sign, 
and  leave  recorded  on  the  desk  of  the  President  of 
this  Assembly  every  word  that  has  fallen  from  my 
lips." 

After  several  days  of  stormy  debates,  the  Third 
Estate,  or  Commons,  adopted  the  name  of  "  National 
Assembly." 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


155 


The  proceedings  of  the  Assembly  were  thought  by 
the  king  to  encroach  on  the  royal  prerogative,  and  he 
ordered  them  in  person  to  vacate  the  room  which 
they  occupied,  to  cease  to  call  themselves  the  "  Na 
tional  Assembly,"  and  to  form  themselves,  in  con 
junction  with  the  nobility  and  clergy,  into  the  States- 
General  originally  convened,  each  order  deliberating 
and  voting  in  separate  chambers.  The  king  was  list 
ened  to  in  profound  silence.  On  his  departure,  some 
members  of  the  nobility  and  clergy  who  had  joined 
the  assembly  followed  him,  but  the  true  representa 
tives  of  the  people,  the  commoners,  remained  motion 
less  and  calm  in  their  seats.  The  Marquis  de  Dreux 
Br6ze,  grand  master  of  ceremonies,  amazed  at  their 
disobedience,  approached  the  President  and  said : 
"  Gentlemen,  you  have  heard  the  intentions  of  the 
king."  Mirabeau  rose,  and  replied  with  an  inimitable 
dignity  of  tone  and  manner: 

"  Yes,  Sir,  we  have  heard  the  intentions  which  have 
been  suggested  to  the  king.  But  you,  who  can  not 
be  his  organ  before  the  National  Assembly,  you  who 
have  here  neither  a  seat,  nor  a  vote,  nor  the  right  of 
speech,  are  not  qualified  to  put  us  in  mind  of  the 
royal  address.  Nevertheless,  to  avoid  all  equivoca 
tion  or  delay,  I  declare  to  you  that,  if  you  have  been 
authorized  to  make  us  leave  this  hall  of  our  delibera 
tions,  you  must  ask  for  orders  to  employ  force.  Go, 
and  tell  your  master  that  we  are  here  by  the  power 
of  the  people,  and  that  we  can  be  driven  hence  only 
by  the  power  of  bayonets." 

"  Such  are  the  sentiments  of  the  Assembly,"  spon 
taneously  shouted  all  his  colleagues. 

"  Gentlemen,"  said  the  abbe  Sieyes,  "  we  are  to-day 
what  we  were  yesterday.  Let  us  proceed  with  our 
deliberations." 


156  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

From  that  solemn  hour  Mirabeau  was  the  leader  of 
the   Assembly   and    the   most  conspicuous    man    in 
France.     He  became  the  idol  of  the  people  and  the 
terror  of  the  court.     One  after  the  other  the  pillars 
that    supported  the    ancient    monarchy   went   down 
under  the  thunderbolts  which  he  hurled  with  an  un 
sparing  hand.     His  eloquence  was  irresistible,  his  in 
dustry  indefatigable.      On  the  8th  of  July,  he   de 
manded  the  formation  of  a  national  guard,  and,  on 
the  Qth,  he  caused  to  be  adopted  by  the  Assembly  an 
address  to  the  king  for  the  removal  of  the  troops  who 
surrounded   the  legislative  hall — which  address  was 
pronounced  to  be  a  master-piece  of  composition,  and 
to  possess  all  the  excellencies  of  the  highest  order  of 
style.     A  few  days  after,  the  Bastile  was  taken  by  the 
populace  of  Paris,  and  a  revolution  inaugurated.    On 
the  king  having  notified  the  Assembly  of  his  intention 
to  visit  them,  Mirabeau  rose,  and  said  in  his  most  im 
pressive  manner:  "  Let  a  mute  and  mournful  respect 
be  the  welcome  given  to  the  monarch ;  let  kings  find 
a  lesson  in  the  silence  with  which  they  are  met   by 
their  subjects."     On  the  i6th,  he  proposed  an  address 
to  the  king  asking  for  the  dismissal  of  his  ministers. 
On  the  25th,  he  spoke  with  much  warmth  of  feeling 
against  the  post-office  violation  of  letters,  "  whatever 
might  be  the  authority  which  ordered  or  sanctioned 
an  act  so  infamous."     Those  who  knew  the  Sardan- 
apalian  excesses  in  which  he  never  ceased  to  indulge, 
even  in  the  midst  of  his  intense  labors,  did  not  un 
derstand  where  he  could  find  the  time,  and  how  he 
could  retain  sufficient  strength  of  body  and  mind,  to 
perform  the   Herculean  task  he  had  assumed.     For 
him  there  seemed  to  be  no  rest  and  no  sleep ;  from 
the  lap  of  voluptuousness  he  was  always  prompt  to 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET. 

spring  up  for  action,  fully  equipped,  never  enervated 
by  his  orgies,  and  ever  ready  to  bear  down  any  oppo 
sition  or  obstacle  with  the  club  of  his  massive  intellect. 

Aubert  Dubayet  had  been  a  constant  attendant  at 
all  the  sittings  of  the  National  Assembly.  One  day, 
when  he  was  going  out  arm  in  arm  with  Mirabeau, 
"  Well,"  said  the  latter  personage,  "  what  do  you  think 
of  the  tribune  whom  you  heard  for  the  first  time  at 
Aix?" 

"  I  think,"  answered  Dubayet,  "  that  he  has  grown 
into  the  most  formidable  of  Titans." 

"Ah!  ah!"  exclaimed  Mirabeau,  evidently  well 
pleased,  "  and  that  Titan  will  soon  escalade  Heaven. 
Such  men  as  I  am  do  not  stop  half  way." 

"  Beware  of  Jove's  thunderbolts." 

"  Pshaw !  They  are  said,  you  know,  to  glance  off 
harmlessly  from  laurels,  and  I  shall  take  care  to  se 
cure  a  sufficient  supply  of  them  to  protect  the  mighty 
head  which  is  destined  to  govern  France.  But,  who 
is  coming  toward  us  ?  Is  it  not  Mr.  Gouverneur  Mor 
ris,  one  of  the  ablest  and  most  influential  patriots  of 
America,  who  has  lately  arrived  here,  bearing  letters 
of  introduction  from  Washington  to  distinguished 
persons  in  England,  France,  and  Holland?  I  suppose 
that  the  President  of  the  United  States  wishes  to  be 
correctly  informed  of  what  is  passing  on  this  side  of 
the  Atlantic,  and  has  deputed,  to  that  effect,  an  agent 
who  enjoys  his  unlimited  confidence.  I  am  curious  to 
hear  what  he  has  to  say  on  our  proceedings.  You  know 
him,  of  course ;  please  to  introduce  me." 

This  was  done  as  he  desired.  After  a  mutual  ex 
change  of  civilities,  Mirabeau  said  to  Morris:  "  I  hope, 
Sir,  that  like  all  Americans,  you  compliment  us  on 
our  revolution." 


158  A  UBERT  DUB  A  YET. 

"  I  hesitate,  count,"  was  the  reply.*  "  Your  nobles, 
your  clergy,  your  people,  are  in  motion.  A  spirit 
which  has  been  dormant  for  generations  starts  up  and 
stares  about,  ignorant  of  the  means  of  obtaining,  but 
evidently  desirous  to  possess,  its  object ;  consequently 
active,  energetic,  easily  led,  but  also  easily,  too  easily 
misled.  Such  is  the  instinctive  love  of  freedom  which 
now  grows  warm  in  the  bosom  of  your  country.  But 
I  doubt  whether  you  are  not  rushing  too  fast  toward 
a  state  of  things  for  which  you  are  not  prepared.  Even 
Lafayette,  prudent  as  he  is,  appears  to  me  too  repub 
lican  for  the  genius  of  his  country." 

"Allow  me  to  differ  with  you  on  this  point,"  re 
plied  Mirabeau.  "  Lafayette  is  not  too  republican 
at  present,  I  assure  you.  I  know  his  views.  He  is  now 
for  a  constitutional  monarchy,  approaching  as  near  as 
possible  that  of  Great  Britain.  But  he  is  a  weak  man, 
too  fond  of  popularity  and  newspaper  flattery,  and  he 
may  become  too  much  of  a  republican  in  the  course 
of  time.  He  is  not  a  leader,  however,  nor  ever  will 
be,  whatever  the  appearances  are  to  the  contrary.  Such 
men  are  made  to  follow ;  or,  if  they  are  followed,  it 
is  only  after  the  fashion  of  an  adopted  flag;  its  value 
consists  merely  in  its  being  emblematic." 

"  Lafayette  and  I,"  continued  Morris,  "  are  rather 
somewhat  apart  in  our  system  of  politics.  He  agrees 
better,  I  think,  with  Mr.  Jefferson  than  with  me, 
although  he  is  not  prepared  to  go  as  far  as  his  friend 
in  his  democratic  ideas.  Still  he,  with  all  the  other 
leaders  of  the  liberal  party  here — for,  with  due  defer- 
ence  to  the  opinion  you  have  just  expressed,  I  beg 


*  Morris'  letter,  23d  of  February,  1789,  to  the  French  ministei 
residing  in  New  York. 


A  USER T  D UBA  YET.  1 59 

leave  to  consider  him  a  leader — is  desirous,  I  say,  of 
annihilating  all  distinctions  of  order.  How  far  such 
views  may  be  right,  respecting  mankind  in  general,  is, 
I  think,  extremely  problematical.  But,  with  regard 
to  your  nation,  I  am  sure  it  is  wrong,  and  can  not 
eventuate  well."* 

"  I  agree  with  you,"  said  Mirabeau.  "  But  those 
leaders  you  speak  of  shall  not  be  allowed  to  have  full 
sway,  although  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  they  are  urged 
on  in  their  mad  course  by  foreigners  of  distinction  and 
influence  who  have  but  too  much  weight  with  them. 
For  instance,  that  crack-brained  and  presumptuous 
fellow,  Thomas  Payne,  who  is  now  on  a  visit  to  your 
States,  and  your  own  countryman,  Thomas  Jefferson, 
who,  by  the  by,  is  a  man  of  a  far  superior  calibre  to 
that  of  his  compeer  in  their  partnership  of  demolition 
and  Utopian  reconstruction,  are  dangerous  mischief- 
makers,  and  as  active  among  our  ultras  as  the  most 
senseless  of  them  all.  This  Thomas  Payne  has  lately 
thought  proper,  forsooth,  to  pat  me  on  the  shoulder 
and  approve  some  of  my  acts ;  and,  by  the  way  of  en 
couragement,  I  presume,  has  sent  me  this  extract  from 
a  letter  addressed  to  him  by  Jefferson  on  the  nth 
of  July,  and  in  which  this  ambassador  of  yours  re 
views  the  proceedings  of  our  Assembly.  Permit  me 
to  read  it ;  I  happen  to  have  it  at  hand  : 

"  '  The  National  Assembly,'  says  Jefferson,  '  having 
shown  through  every  stage  of  their  transactions,  cool 
ness,  wisdom,  and  resolution  to  set  fire  to  the  four 
corners  of  the  kingdom,  and  to  perish  with  it  them 
selves,  rather  than  relinquish  an  iota  from  their  plan 
of  a  total  change  of  government,  are  now  in  complete 


;"  Life  of  Gouverneur  Morris,"  vol.  i.,  p.  313. 


l6o  *  UBER T  D UBA  YE T. 

and  undisputed  possession  of  the  sovereignty.  The 
executive  and  aristocracy  are  at  their  feet ;  the  mass 
of  the  nation,  the  mass  of  the  clergy  and  the  army  are 
with  them  ;  they  have  prostrated  the  old  government 
and  are  now  beginning  to  build  one  from  the  founda 
tion.'  " 

Here  Mirabeau  paused,  shook  his  bushy  hair, 
squared  his  shoulders,  swelled  his  chest,  and  threw 
his  head  back,  as  he  was  in  the  habit  of  doing  when 
preparing  to  address  an  audience,  and,  striking  his 
breast,  said :  "  Mr.  Morris,  I,  for  one,  as  a  member  of 
the  National  Assembly,  I,  Honor6  Gabriel  de  Riquetti, 
Count  de  Mirabeau,  protest  against  such  sentiments. 
I  am  too  much  of  a  Frenchman  to  set  fire  to  the 
'  four  corners  of  the  kingdom  and  to  perish  with  it,' 
rather  than  relinquish  an  iota  from  my  plans.  Far 
from  calling  it  '  wisdom  and  coolness,'  I  would  call  it 
insanity,  fury,  and  satanical  pride.  This  is  a  kind  of 
republicanism  which  I  can  not  understand  and  do  not 
appreciate.  I  would  not,  after  the  fashion  and  in 
imitation  of  Mr.  Jefferson,  desire  to  annihilate  any 
body,  much  less  any  considerable  portion  of  mankind, 
for  differing  in  opinion  with  me  on  morals,  politics, 
or  religion.  I  hear  that  there  is  a  rumor  of  his  being 
recalled  by  President  Washington,  and  of  his  having 
a  seat  in  the  Cabinet.  Should  this  be  the  case,  I  am 
much  deceived  if  he  is  not  destined  to  be  a  thorn  in 
that  great  man's  side,  and  if  he  does  not  sow  in  his 
native  land  the  dragon's  teeth,  in  the  shape  of  social 
doctrines,  which,  producing  a  dead  level  of  medioc 
rity,  not  free,  however,  from  the  heart-burnings  of  low 
ambition,  envy,  and  malignity,  will  in  the  end  produce 
anarchy  and  bloody  struggles." 

"I  think,"  replied  Morris,  "that  the  good  sense  of 


A  UBER  T  DUB  A  YET.  ifa 

the  Americans  will  preserve  them  against  extremes, 
and  that  our  free  institutions  may  be  relied  on  for 
centuries  of  existence  without  material  modifications. 
But,  although  you  may  consider  your  revolution  as 
achieved,  although  the  authority  of  the  king  and 
nobility  is  completely  subdued,  yet  I  tremble  for  the 
new  constitution  you  have  in  view.  Instead  of  prac 
tical  experience  and  soberness  of  desire,  the  French 
have  all  the  romantic  spirit  and  all  the  romantic  ideas 
of  government,  which,  happily  for  America,  we  were 
cured  of  before  it  was  too  late."  * 

"  I  have  little  respect,"  said  Mirabeau,  with  his 
usual  imprudence  and  haughty  carelessness,  "  for  most 
of  the  members  of  our  Assembly.  Some  are  fools, 
and  many  are  knaves — poor  stuff  out  of  which  to 
make  proper  charioteers  for  the  Juggernaut  car  of 
revolution.  But  great  national  convulsions  have 
always  produced  the  man  who  is  to  end  them.  He 
will  not  be  wanting  to  France." 

"  May  it  be  so  !  "  said  Morris  ;  "and  if  the  French 
determine  on  a  republic,  may  they  have  a  Washington 
to  conduct  them  through  the  experiment !  By  the 
by,  as  you  have  favored  me  with  an  extract  from  a 
letter,  allow  me  to  return  you  the  compliment  in  com 
municating  to  you  the  views  of  men  to  whom  you 
will  concede  some  experience  in  revolution.  It  will 
show  you  how  anxious  your  best  friends  and  well- 
wishers  are  that  you  should  behave  with  all  the  mod 
eration,  prudence,  and  foresight  which  this  great  crisis 
demands.  I  read  from  a  letter  addressed  to  me  by 
General  Washington  : 


*  Gouverneur  Morris'  Letter  to  Washington,  3ist  of  July, 
1789. 


j  62  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

"  '  I  am  persuaded/  he  writes,  '  that  I  express  the 
sentiment  of  my  fellow-citizens  when  I  offer  an  ear 
nest  prayer  that  the  revolution  in  France  may  termi 
nate  in  the  permanent  honor  and  happiness  of  her 
government  and  people.  That  revolution  is  of  so 
wonderful  a  nature,  that  the  mind  can  hardly  realize 
the  fact.  If  it  ends  as  our  last  accounts  predict,  that 
nation  will  be  the  most  powerful  and  happy  in 
Europe ;  but  I  fear,  though  it  has  gone  triumphantly 
through  its  first  paroxysm,  it  is  not  the  last  it  has  to 
encounter  before  matters  are  fully  settled.  In  a  word, 
the  revolution  is  of  too  great  a  magnitude  to  be  effect 
ed  in  so  short  a  space,  and  with  the  loss  of  so  little 
blood.  The  mortification  of  the  king,  the  intrigues 
of  the  queen,  and  the  discontent  of  the  princes  and 
the  noblesse,  will  foment  divisions,  if  possible,  in  that 
National  Assembly ;  and  they  will  unquestionably 
avail  themselves  of  any  faux  pas  in  the  formation  of 
the  constitution,  if  they  do  not  give  a  more  open, 
active  opposition.  In  addition  to  these,  the  licen 
tiousness  of  the  people  on  one  hand,  and  sanguinary 
punishments  on  the  other,  will  alarm  the  best-disposed 
friends  to  the  measure,  and  contribute  not  a  little  to 
the  overthrow  of  their  object.  Great  temperance, 
firmness,  and  foresight  are  necessary  in  the  move 
ments  of  that  body.  To  forbear  running  from  one 
extreme  to  the  other  is  no  easy  matter ;  and  should 
not  this  be  the  case,  rocks  and  shelves,  not  visible  at 
present,  may  wreck  the  vessel,  and  give  a  higher- 
toned  despotism  than  the  one  which  existed  before.'  " 

Whilst  Morris  was  reading,  Mirabeau  had  taken  off 
his  hat,  and  listened,  or  pretended  to  listen,  as  rev 
erentially  as  a  disciple  of  Islam  would  to  a  firman 
from  the  Prophet.  After  the  reading  was  over,  "  No 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  \  63 

man,"  he  said,  "was  ever  more  disposed,  Mr.  Morris, 
to  bow  lower  than  I  am  to  the  moral  grandeur  and 
virtuous  superiority  of  that  sublime  being  ;  but  I  con 
fess  that  I  did  not  give  him  credit  for  so  much  polit 
ical  sagacity  and  foresight.  He  truly  predicts  what 
may  happen  to  the  tempest-tossed  vessel,  should  the 
right  pilot  be  not  at  the  helm.  If  I  perish,  Mr. 
Morris,  the  ill-advised  king  will  be  dethroned  ;  from 
a  shivered  throne  to  the  scaffold  there  is  but  one 
step,  and  then — a  republic,  and  a  Cromwell.  But  let 
us  hope  that  I  shall  live  to  direct  the  storm  and  ride 
the  whirlwind." 

Morris,  unaccustomed  to  the  candor  of  Mirabeau's 
boasting  and  to  his  usual  expressions  of  overweening 
belief  in  himself,  could  not  conceal  a  slight  degree  of 
astonishment,  and  smiled  at  the  ingenuousness  of  the 
gigantic  presumption  which  did  not  hesitate  to  mani 
fest  so  openly  such  sentiments  of  self-appreciation 
and  confidence.  He  drew  another  letter  from  his 
pocket,  saying :  "  This  one  is  from  Hamilton  to  Lafay 
ette,  who  has  submitted  it  to  my  perusal : 

"  '  As  a  friend  to  liberty  and  mankind/  writes  Ham 
ilton,  '  I  rejoice  in  the  efforts  which  you  are  making 
to  establish  it,  while  I  fear  much  for  the  final  success 
of  the  attempts,  for  the  fall  of  those  who  are  engaged 
in  it,  and  for  the  danger,  in  case  of  success,  of  innova 
tions  greater  than  will  consist  with  the  real  felicity  of 
your  nation.  I  dread  disagreements  among  those 
who  are  now  united,  about  the  nature  of  your  consti 
tution  ;  I  dread  the  vehement  character  of  your  peo 
ple,  whom,  I  fear,  you  may  find  more  easy  to  bring 
on,  than  to  keep  within  proper  bounds  after  you  have 
put  them  in  motion.  I  dread  the  interested  refrac 
toriness  of  your  nobles,  who  can  not  all  be  gratified, 
and  who  may  be  unwilling  to  submit  to  the  requisite 


!  64  ^  tf&E*  7*  D  UBA  YE  T. 

sacrifices  ;  and  I  dread  the  reveries  of  your  philosophic 
politicians,  who  appear  in  the  moment  to  have  great 
influence,  and  who,  being  mere  speculatists,  may  aim 
at  more  refinement  than  suits  either  with  human 
nature,  or  the  composition  of  your  nation.'  "  * 

"I  flatter  myself,"  said  Mirabeau,  "that  we  shall 
not  justify  the  apprehensions  of  our  friends.  In  the 
meantime,  Mr.  Morris,  allow  me  to  thank  you  for  the 
gratification  and  information  which  I  have  derived 
from  this  interview.  I  am  happy  to  have  made  your 
acquaintance,  and  I  beg  leave  to  cultivate  it  to  my 
profit."  The  gentlemen  bowed  and  separated. 

Morris  had  hardly  departed,  when  there  came  by 
the  brilliant  equipage  of  one  of  the  most  popular 
actresses  of  the  epoch.  When  she  saw  Mirabeau,  she 
ordered  her  coachman  to  stop,  and  beckoned  to  him 
and  to  his  companion.  They  both  walked  to  the  car 
riage  door.  Mirabeau  introduced  Aubert  Dubayet. 
"  Count,"  she  said  to  Mirabeau,  "  you  have  not  for 
gotten,  I  suppose,  that  we  dine  to-day  at  the  Duke  of 
Orleans'  ?  But  before  we  meet  at  the  Palais  Royal, 
I  have  something  strictly  private  to  confide  to  you  ; 
step  into  my  carriage,  with  your  friend's  permission." 
Then,  addressing  Dubayet,  she  said,  with  the  sweet 
est  of  smiles :  "  I  hope  you  forgive  the  liberty  I  take. 
I  am  spoiled,  and  used  to  all  sorts  of  liberties.  But 
I'll  not  apologize  now ;  I'll  wait  for  another  occasion — 
for  instance,  on  Friday  next,  when  you  must  sup  with 
me.  The  count  will  accompany  you  ;  I  take  no  re 
fusal.  Aurevoir";  and  the  equipage,  with  its  four 
splendid  English  bays — a  present  of  the  Duke  of  Or 
leans—dashed  away,  with  a  full  load  of  beauty  and  elo 
quence,  but,  alas,  with  very  little  of  virtue  for  ballast, 

*  Hamilton's  Works,  vol.  v.,  p.  440. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE   SUPPER   OF   THE  ACTRESS — A.  SCENE   BETWEEN 
MIRABEAU   AND   THE   DUKE   OF  ORLEANS. 

LEFT  alone,  Aubert  Dubayet  was  crossing  the 
garden  of  the  Tuileries,  when  he  met  Lafayette. 
"  Whither  are  you  going?"  inquired  the  marquis. 

"  To  dinner,"  replied  Dubayet. 

"  Then  it  shall  be  at  my  house.     Come,  let  us  go." 

On  the  way,  Dubayet  related  to  Lafayette  a  part 
of  the  conversation  he  had  just  heard  between  Gou- 
verneur  Morris  and  Mirabeau.  "  So,"  said  Lafayette,- 
"  Morris  thinks  that  I  and  my  friends  are  too  republi 
can  for  France." 

"  And  I  confess,"  observed  Dubayet,  "  that  I  some 
what  agree  with  him." 

"  You  are  both  in  error,"  continued  Lafayette. 
"  You  and  Morris  have  only  witnessed  the  surface  of 
things ;  it  is  for  me  to  explain  the  interior.  Mira 
beau  is  right :  I  am  for  a  monarchy,  not  for  a  repub 
lic.  The  object  which  is  aimed  at  by  the  Duke  de 
Larochefoucauld,  Mr.  Condorcet,  myself,  and  some 
others,  who  consider  themselves  leaders,  is  to  obtain 
for  France  a  constitution  nearly  resembling  that  of 
England,  which  we  regard  as  the  most  perfect  model 
of  government  hitherto  known.  To  accomplish  this, 
it  is  necessary  to  diminish  very  essentially  the  power 
of  the  king ;  but  our  object  is  to  retain  the  throne, 
in  great  majesty,  as  the  first  branch  of  the  legislative 

(165) 


l66  A  UBERT  DUBA  YET. 

power,  but  retrenching  its  executive  power  in  one 
point,  which,  though  very  important  in  the  British 
Crown,  we  think  is  needless  here.  The  peerage  of 
France  is  already  so  numerous  that  we  would  take 
from  our  king  the  right  of  creating  new  peers,  except 
in  cases  where  old  families  may  become  extinct.* 
To  all  this,  the  king,  who  is  one  of  the  best  of  men, 
and  sincerely  desirous  of  the  happiness  of  his  people, 
most  freely  and  cordially  consents." 

"  How  would  you  constitute  your  house  of  peers  ?  " 
said  Dubayet. 

"  We  wish  a  house  of  peers,"  replied  Lafayette, 
"with  powers  of  legislation  similar  to  that  of  England, 
restricted  to  one  hundred  members,  to  be  elected  by 
the  whole  body  of  the  nobility  from  among  them 
selves,  in  the  same  manner  as  the  Scotch  peers  are  in 
the  British  Parliament. "f 

"  And  the  plebeians — the  great  mass  of  the  peo 
ple,"  inquired  Dubayet,  "  what  of  them  ?  " 

"  We  wish  also,"  continued  Lafayette,  "  as  the 
third  branch  of  the  legislative  body,  a  house  of  repre 
sentatives,  chosen  by  the  great  body  of  the  people 
from  among  themselves,  in  such  a  ratio  as  shall  not 
make  the  house  too  numerous ;  and  this  branch  of 
our  project  meets  unanimous  approbation.  \ 

"  How  happy  I  am,"  exclaimed  Dubayet,  "  to  hear 
that  such  a  plan  is  feasible ! " 

"  Feasible,  yes,"  remarked  Lafayette,  "  but  will  it 
be  carried  into  execution?  Unhappily,  there  is  one 
powerful  and  wicked  man,  who,  I  fear,  will  destroy 
this  beautiful  fabric  of  human  happiness — the  Duke 


*  Colonel  Trumbull's  Report  to  Washington, 
t  Ibid.  J  Ibid. 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  j6/ 

of  Orleans.  He  does  not,  indeed,  possess  talent  to 
carry  into  execution  a  great  project,  but  he  possesses 
immense  wealth,  and  France  abounds  in  marketable 
talents.  Every  city  and  town  has  young  men  emi 
nent  for  abilities,  particularly  in  the  law,  ardent  in 
character,  eloquent,  ambitious  of  distinction,  but  poor.* 
These  are  the  instruments  which  the  duke  may  com 
mand  by  money,  and  they  will  do  his  bidding.  His 
hatred  of  the  royal  family  can  be  satisfied  only  by 
their  ruin.  His  ambition,  probably,  leads  him  to 
aspire  to  the  throne."  * 

"  And  do  you  suspect  Mirabeau  to  be  one  of  the 
tools  of  the  duke  ? "  was  the  question  asked  by  Du- 
bayet. 

"  No,"  replied  Lafayette ;  "  it  is  the  duke  who  is 
the  tool  of  Mirabeau,  whilst  the  duke  thinks  he  is 
using  that  extraordinary  man  to  his  own  profit.  They 
are  now  acting  together,  but  their  league  will  not  last 
long.  I  have  heard  Mirabeau  say  that  the  duke  had 
talents,  but  had  not  the  consciousness  of  right  and 
wrong,  so  absolute  was  his  depravity.  A  creature, 
whom  Mirabeau  thinks  so  vile  and  for  whom  he  has 
so  much  contempt,  can  not  really  exercise  influence 
over  one  who,  although  corrupt  himself,  yet  is  suscep 
tible  of  enthusiasm  for  all  that  is  noble  and  virtuous. 
Such  is  Mirabeau.  He  will  not  trust  the  duke,  and 
they  will  quarrel.  Should,  then,  the  king  or  queen 
tempt  his  ambition,  I  believe  that  they  will  secure 
his  mighty  support  ;  for  Mirabeau  is  an  aristocrat  at 
heart,  and  is  for  a  constitutional  monarchy  whose 
Chatham  he  will  aim  to  be." 

"  I  have   heard  the  duke   accused  of  being,  with 


*  Colonel  Trumbull's  Report  to  Washington. 


1 68  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

Mirabeau,  the  instigator  of  the  late  riots  and  mas 
sacres.  Do  you  believe  it?"  inquired  Dubayet. 

"  I  am  certain  of  it,  so  far  as  regards  the  Duke  of 
Orleans.  As  to  Mirabeau,  considering  his  present 
relations  with  that  personage,  I  am  afraid  that  he  is 
not  free  from  all  responsibility,  for  he  needs  anarchy 
to  make  himself  necessary,  and  to  have  the  merit  of 
re-establishing  order  at  the  opportune  moment.  You 
saw  the  other  day,  in  the  mob,  men  who  were  called 
les  Marseillais,  les  patriotes  par  excellence;  you  saw 
them  particularly  active  and  audacious  in  stimulating 
the  discontented  artisans  and  laborers,  who  com 
posed  the  great  mass  of  the  mob,  to  acts  of  violence 
and  ferocity ;  those  men  are,  in  truth,  desperadoes, 
assassins  from  the  south  of  France,  familiar  with  mur 
der,  robbery,  and  every  atrocious  crime,  who  have 
been  brought  up  to  Paris  by  the  money  of  the  duke, 
for  the  very  purpose  for  which  you  saw  them  em 
ployed,  of  mingling  in  all  mobs,  and  exciting  the  pas 
sions  of  the  people  to  frenzy."  * 

"  Good  God  !  "  exclaimed  Dubayet,  "  this  is  horri 
ble.  What  will  be  the  end  of  it  ?  " 

"  This  is  the  first  act  of  the  drama,"  continued  La 
fayette.  "  The  second  will  be  to  influence  the  elec 
tions,  on  the  dissolution  of  this  Assembly,  which  is 
already  talked  of,  and  to  fill  the  next  one  with  ar 
dent,  inexperienced,  desperate,  ambitious  young  men, 
who,  instead  of  proceeding  to  discuss  calmly  the  de 
tails  of  the  political  plan  of  which  I  have  given  you 
the  general  outline  for  the  establishment  of  a  perma 
nent  constitutional  monarchy,  and  to  cariy  it  quietly 
into  operation,  will,  under  disguise  of  zeal  for  the 


*  Colonel  Trumbull's  Report  to  Washington. 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  \  69 

people  and  abhorrence  of  the  aristocrats,  drive  every 
measure  to  extremity,  for  the  purpose  of  throwing 
the  affairs  of  the  nation  into  utter  confusion,  when 
the  master  spirit  may  accomplish  his  ultimate  pur 
pose.  "  * 

A  few  days  afterward  Mirabeau  took  Aubert  Du- 
bayet  to  supper  at  the  house  of  his  friend,  Made 
moiselle  Guimard,  according  to  the  invitation  which 
that  actress  had  given.  There  were  assembled  most  of 
the  celebrated  artists  who  belonged  to  the  fair  sex ;  and, 
on  the  masculine  side,  there  was  a  gathering  of  nobles, 
of  literary  and  scientific  men,  and  of  some  members  of 
the  National  Assembly.  Mirabeau,  with  ineffable  ease, 
as  if  a  matter  of  course,  and  in  the  exercise  of  an  in 
disputable  right,  took  hold  of  the  conversation,  to 
which  he  gave  the  lead.  All  the  honors  of  the  even 
ing  were  for  him.  He  burned  at  random,  with  a  pro 
fuse  hand,  coarse  and  delicate  incense  and  perfumes 
for  the  women,  and  he  showered  upon  them  such 
pearls  from  his  intellectual  casket  as  he  thought  suit 
able  to  their  tastes.  He  made  love  to  them  all  in  turn, 
and  amused  them  with  the  most  piquant  anecdotes 
on  the  most  renowned  beauties  of  ancient  and  modern 
times,  drawing  largely  on  his  imagination  when  his 
torical  truth  failed  him.  With  the  men  he  skipped 
from  subject  to  subject,  frivolous  or  austere,  but  re 
maining  always  equal  to  himself  and  superior  to  all. 
It  seemed  as  if,  by  a  tacit  consent,  every  one  talked 
merely  to  draw  him  out.  It  was  past  midnight,  when, 
leaving  the  supper-table,  the  guests  moved  to  the 
brilliantly  illuminated  saloons,  where  parties  who  had 
dropped  in  as  visitors  in  the  course  of  the  evening, 


*  Colonel  Trumbull's  Report  to  Washington. 


1 70  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

were  engaged  in  different  kinds  of  game  whilst  expect 
ing  the  fair  hostess  and  her  guests.  Mirabeau  was  not 
one  of  the  least  eager  to  try  his  luck  at  the  most  haz 
ardous  of  the  games.  He  betted  heavily  and  lost 
accordingly,  but  with  the  most  superb  indifference, 
notwithstanding  the  natural  impetuosity  of  his  tem 
perament,  and  although  he  was  evidently  heated  by 
wine.  One  would  have  supposed  that  he  had  the 
Indies  at  his  disposal.  He  had  at  last  a  lucky  run. 
One  of  the  opera  queens  of  the  day  happened  to  ap 
proach  him.  "  Ah  !  love,"  he  said,  "  is  that  you  at  my 
elbow?  How  splendid  you  were  last  Thursday  in 
the  part  of  Cleopatra !  It  was  true  to  the  life ;  the 
illusion  was  complete.  Allow  me  to  present  this  to 
you  (pointing  to  the  large  glittering  pile  of  gold  be 
fore  him)  in  the  name  of  Marc  Antony,  that  stout 
warrior  and  boon  companion  whom  I  love,  because 
he  had  vices  which  were  very  much  like  my  own." 

At  that  moment,  the  Duke  of  Orleans  was  an 
nounced.  He  entered  with  a  flushed  face,  and  with 
the  appearance  of  having  just  risen  from  one  of  his 
habitual  orgies.  He  bowed  to  the  right  and  left  with 
a  sort  of  haughty  carelessness,  after  having  kissed  the 
hand  of  La  Guimard,  as  she  was  called,  and  walked  to 
Mirabeau.  "  Count,"  he  said,  "  we  had  some  difference 
together  the  other  day.  It  has  lasted  long  enough, 
and  I  have  come  to  make  it  up.  With  the  permission 
of  our  gentle  hostess,  pray,  do  me  the  favor  to  grant 
me  the  pleasure  of  your  company  in  a  private  room. 
I  have  no  doubt  that  a  few  minutes'  conversation  will 
be  sufficient  to  re-establish  harmony  between  us,  and 
that  we  shall  be  able  to  proceed  in  our  great  under 
taking  of  reform  in  France,  with  a  mutual  friendly 
understanding,  as  in  the  past." 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  j^I 

Mirabeau  rose,  and  with  an  ominous  scowl  on  his 
brow  followed  the  prince.  "  Let  us  station  ourselves 
near  the  door  of  the  apartment,"  said  Mademoiselle 
Guimard  to  Dubayet.  "  I  am  afraid  of  the  conse 
quences  of  this  interview  in  the  condition  in  which 
both  are.  The  duke  and  the  count  quarrelled  vio 
lently  the  other  day ;  and  since,  Mirabeau  has  told  me 
that  the  prince  was  too  rotten  and  too  unreliable  to 
be  trusted  ;  that  it  was  disreputable,  as  he  found  out, 
for  him  to  be  connected  with  such  a  character,  and 
that  he  would  wash  his  hands  of  him." 

La  Guimard  and  Dubayet  sat  on  a  sofa  that  was 
near  the  folding  doors  behind  which  the  two  great  per 
sonages  had  disappeared.  After  a  little  while  it  seemed 
evident  to  them  that  there  was  an  angry  altercation 
going  on  inside.  The  voices  became  louder  and  louder, 
and  even  assumed  a  threatening  tone.  Greatly  alarmed, 
the  actress  opened  the  door;  and,  standing  on  the 
threshold  with  Dubayet,  said :  "  I  beg  your  royal 
highness,  and  I  beg  you,  count,  to  pardon  me  for  hav 
ing  intruded  on  your  privacy.  But  I  come  to  warn 
you  that,  if  you  do  not  beware,  your  conversation  will 
be  overheard." 

"  By  the  living  God  !  "  exclaimed  Mirabeau,  "  I  care 
not  a  pinch  of  snuff,  if  what  I  have  said,  or  intend  to 
say,  is  heard  by  the  whole  world  !  On  the  contrary, 
I  should  be  glad  of  it.  Therefore,  walk  in,  both  of 
you  ;  walk  in,  by  all  means.  Know  ye  that  this  prince 
has  been  reproaching  me,  forsooth,  with  being  a  diso 
bedient  slave — a  slave  whom,  as  he  fancies,  he  has 
bought  with  five  hundred  thousand  livres  which  he  pre 
sented  to  me  a  few  days  ago,  and  which  I  have  already 
squandered.  Ha!  ha!  a  rich  idea!  Such  a  man  as  I 
am  may  condescend  to  take  such  a  sum  for  services 


172 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


rendered,  or  to  be  rendered,  but  does  not  stoop  to  be 
sold.  You  forget  that,  Monseigncur.  Mirabeau  is 
Mirabeau,  and  ever  remains  his  own  master.  I  might 
think  it  worth  while  to  spend  your  whole  fortune  to 
further  your  own  purposes  and  mine,  but  after  my 
own  fashion,  be  it  understood.  Does  your  royal  high 
ness  imagine  that  all  your  millions  concentrated  into 
one  heap  and  offered  to  me,  could  make  Philip  of  Or 
leans,  first  prince  of  the  blood,  master  of  Honor£ 
Gabriel  Riquetti,  Count  de  Mirabeau?  If  you  do,  you 
have  yet  to  learn  that  there  is  a  royalty  of  intellect 
and  of  soul,  which  is  better  entitled  to  command  than 
any  authority  derived  from  the  divine  right  of  kings." 
This  was  said  with  great  vehemence,  and  with  a  con 
temptuous  sneer. 

The  prince,  who  was  evidently  trying  to  regain  his 
self-possession,  which  he  seemed  to  have  lost  in  this 
interview,  said  calmly  :  "  You  know,  Mr.  de  Mirabeau, 
that  these  titles  of  prince  and  royal  highness  are  no 
longer  accepted  by  me,  because  they  do  not  agree 
with  the  position  which  I  have  taken  as  the  inflexible 
advocate  of  liberty,  equality,  and  fraternity  among 
men.  You  know  that  it  is  long  since  I  have  ceased 
to  blush  to  acknowledge  as  my  father  Montfort,  the 
coachman." 

At  these  words,  Dubayet  felt  as  if  his  blood  froze 
in  his  veins,  and  La  Guimard  uttered  a  smothered 
shriek.  Mirabeau  measured  the  prince  with  a  wither 
ing  glance  from  head  to  foot ;  and,  turning  round  to 
the  two  spectators  of  this  scene,  said:  "  You  have  be 
come  pale,  Dubayet ;  and  you,  dear  Guimard,  are  near 
fainting.  But  keep  up ;  keep  up,  and  do  not  believe 
what  this  man  says.  In  the  name  of  all  honest  wives 
and  mothers,  I  tell  him  that  he  lies.  The  truth  is, 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  !  73 

that  having  ceased  to  fawn  on  Louis  and  on  Marie 
Antoinette,  who  repudiate  his  homage,  he  has  be 
come  a  courtier,  or  rather  a  valet,  in  the  ante-cham 
bers  of  that  new  sovereign — the  people — whose  reign 
has  been  lately  inaugurated,  and  in  whose  court  he 
thinks  that  it  would  be- held  a  higher  degree  of  no 
bility  to  be  the  son  of  a  coachman,  than  of  a  royal 
duke.  But  it  is  a  sheer  pretence — a  princely  joke — that 
is  all.  Like  his  ancestor,  the  Regent,  he  is  fond  of 
boasting  of  more  vices  and  crimes  than  have  fallen  to 
his  share,  although  he  is  bad  and  infamous  enough  to 
satisfy  himself  in  that  respect,  Heaven  knows."* 

The  face  of  Orleans,  which  was  already  inflamed 
by  his  too  liberal  potations,  became  purple  with 
shame  and  rage,  and  his  eye,  which  had  naturally  a 
sinister  expression,  assumed  the  deadly  look  of  an  in 
furiated  basilisk. 

"  Mr.  de  Mirabeau,"  he  said,  "  such  insolence  would 
well  deserve  the  whip." 

Mirabeau  struck  three  times  his  athletic  and  sonor 
ous  chest.  "  The  whip  to  me  !  Monseigneur"  he  ex 
claimed  ;  "  to  me,  the  real  king  of  France  by  the  con 
secration  and  anointment  of  the  people,  whose  maj 
esty  and  power  are  incorporated  in  me  as  their  repre 
sentative  !  This  is  another  of  your  jokes,  but  a  silly 
one,  decidedly.  Leave  the  whip  to  your  pretended 
father,  the  coachman.  It  is  the  sword  that  befits 
your  royal  hand  ;  but  I  forget  that  you  never  had  the 
courage  to  use  one.  There  was  in  France  but  one 
prince  who  ever  dared  to  use  the  whip.  He  was  the 
greatest  of  the  House  of  Bourbon,  and  named  himself 
Louis  XIV.  It  was  on  a  grand  occasion ;  it  was 

*  Jules  Janin. 


174 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


when,  starting  for  the  chase,  in  the  pride  of  youth 
and  power,  he  drove  before  him,  whip  in  hand,  a  dis 
obedient  parliament.  But  the  times  have  changed, 
and  the  whip  has  passed  into  the  hands  of  the  nation. 
It  wields  it,  Monseigneur,  with  a  firm  and  rough  arm, 
and,  should  it  please  God,  you  will  feel  it  one  day, 
with  a  vengeance !  Already,  if  my  memory  serves 
me  right,  it  has  been  laid  rudely  across  the  face  of 
your  royal  race ;  for  you  certainly  can  not  have  for 
gotten  to  whom  the  handsome  and  irresistible  Lauzun 
used  to  say :  '  Louise  D'Orleans,  pull  off  my  boots.' 
I  pray,  therefore,  your  royal  highness  no  longer  to 
speak  of  the  whip.  Perhaps  there  remains  yet  a  fort 
night  of  respite,  during  which  you  may  be  permitted 
to  threaten  your  lacqueys  with  such  punishment. 
Lose  no  time  in  availing  yourself  of  the  opportunity, 
and  hasten  back  to  the  enjoyment  of  that  luxury  in 
your  palace." 

The  duke  seemed  petrified  with  astonishment. 
Mirabeau,  turning  away  from  him,  took  two  or  three 
rapid  strides  through  the  room,  to  and  fro,  from  one 
end  to  the  other,  like  an  angry  lion  in  a  cage.  Then, 
suddenly  halting,  he  said  to  La  Guimard  and  to  Du- 
bayet,  whilst  he  pointed  at  the  prince  with  an  inso 
lent  gesture  which  was  natural  to  him  :  "  It  is  strange 
that  this  man  should  claim  the  right  to  change  his 
hereditary  name,  when  he  has  sufficiently  degraded  it 
to  suit  his  taste !  It  is  strange  that  he  should  pre 
sume  to  lay  aside  his  father  to  take  up  another,  as  I 
would  doff  my  coat !  It  is  strange  that  he  should 
arrogate  the  right  to  defame  an  honest  coachman  who 
has  done  him  nothing  to  deserve  such  treatment !  It 
is  passing  strange  that  he  should  insult  the  memory 
of  his  mother  in  our  presence,  as  he  has  insulted  his 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  175 

wife,  that  woman  so  accomplished,  so  virtuous,  so 
chaste,  so  thoroughly  a  Christian,  whom  he  forced  to 
appear,  terrified  and  crossing  herself,  amidst  a  pro 
fane  assembly  of  Freemasons  !  Perhaps  it  is  due  to 
a  certain  old  habit  of  princes — the  habit  of  offering 
insults,  in  the  way  of  fun — a  habit  which  time  has 
not  yet  corrected,  it  seems,  and  of  which  I  hope  that 
we  have  seen,  to-night,  the  last  exhibition.  Hence, 
let  us  have  patience." 

The  Duke  of  Orleans  must  have  stood  in  absolute 
need  of  Mirabeau,  for  he  suddenly  put  on  an  air  of 
cordiality  and  said  :  "  Bah !  Bah  !  Genius  has  its 
privileges  and  its  infirmities,  which  must  be  respected. 
Genius  has  its  fits  of  insanity,  and  this  is  one  of  them, 
but  it  claims  the  privilege  to  be  forgotten,  and  it  shall 
be.  Come,  come,  let  us  be  friends,  Mirabeau.  Be 
sides,  we  need  each  other  for  the  good  of  France," 
and  he  tendered  his  hand. 

Mirabeau  stepped  back.  "  Touch  me  not,"  he  said, 
"  if  you  really  are  the  adulterous  son  of  a  coachman ; 
know,  Sir,  that  I  am,  and  never  will  cease  to  be,  of 
noble  birth,  and  that  there  can  be  nothing  in  common 
between  the  bastard  of  Montfort  and  the  legitimate 
descendant  of  a  hundred  gentlemen." 

After  this  explosion  of  wrath,  he  rushed  out,  fol 
lowed  by  La  Guimard  and  Dubayet.  He  was  walk 
ing  rapidly  toward  the  entrance  door  of  the  house, 
apparently  to  leave  it,  when  he  met  one  of  his  friends 
of  the  National  Assembly,  who,  on  seeing  him,  ex 
claimed  :  "  Thank  Heaven !  I  find  you  at  last.  I 
have  been  looking  for  you  in  all  your  accustomed 
haunts,  and  I  am  out  of  breath.  I  have  been  dis 
patched  in  haste  to  tell  you  that  the  Assembly  has 
resumed  the  discussion  of  the  projected  decree  re- 


1 76  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

pudiating  the  national  debt  and  proclaiming  the  bank 
ruptcy  of  France.  Notwithstanding  your  repeated 
efforts  to  prevent  it,  and  the  irrefutable  arguments 
which  you  have  already  presented,  it  is  believed  that 
the  measure  will  be  carried.  They  will  take  the  vote 
in  less  than  an  hour." 

"  O,  the  incorrigible  jackanapes  !  "  exclaimed  Mira- 
beau.  "  Is  it  thus  that  they  avail  themselves  of  my 
absence  to  perpetrate  all  sorts  of  mischief !  Can  I 
not  allow  myself  a  moment  of  relaxation  ?  Guimard, 
my  dear,  take  me  to  your  toilet  room.  Let  me  wash 
my  face  and  remove  the  traces  of  my  having  enjoyed 
too  much  your  exquisite  supper.  I  have,  I  am  afraid, 
been  too  partial  to  your  rare  wines.  By-the-by,  who 
is  your  purveyor?  I  must  patronize  him." 

La  Guimard  took  his  arm,  and,  whilst  leading  him 
to  her  boudoir,  whispered  to  him  with  all  the  signs  of 
the  utmost  terror :  "  Mirabeau,  you  have  mortally 
offended  the  duke.  Beware  of  assassination." 

"  Pshaw !  I  fear  him  not,"  replied  Mirabeau,  con 
temptuously.  "  He,  assassinate  !  No,  he  can  not  rise 

up  even  to  that.  But," and  after  a  pause,  he 

added :  "  He  is  not  above  using  the  poison  of  the 
Borgias.  That  is  low  enough  to  reach  his  level." 

After  he  had  finished  his  ablutions  and  emptied  a 
vial  of  perfume,  he  said  to  Dubayet :  "Let  us  go; 
come  with  me ;  let  us  show  to  that  assembly  of  asses 
the  tusks  of  the  wild  boar.  It  is  time." 

Whilst  Mirabeau's  carriage  was  rattling  toward  the 
National  Assembly,  he  said  to  Dubayet :  "  The  fools  ! 
They  are  for  a  general  bankruptcy,  and  do  not  see 
that  in  so  doing  they  would  cut  their  own  throats  and 
smother  the  revolution  and  liberty.  Far  from  declar 
ing  France  in  a  state  of  bankruptcy,  far  from  wiping 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


177 


out  the  public  debt,  we  must  nurse  and  naturalize  that 
blessing.  The  present  deficit  in  the  treasury  is  the 
germ  of  our  intended  constitution.  No  debt — no 
revolution — no  constitution.  Should  the  public  debt 
be  repudiated,  the  working  classes — and  they  consti 
tute  the  bulk  of  the  nation — will  be  relieved  and  will 
rejoice  at  it.  They  will  gain  everything  by  it  and  lose 
nothing.  They  will  clap  their  hands  at  the  fate  of  the 
financiers  and  creditors  of  the  State,  whom  they  con 
sider  as  blood-suckers,  and  who  will  be  ruined.  But 
the  condition  of  the  people  will  be  greatly  ameliorated, 
because  the  taxes  will  be  much  reduced,  and  pros 
perity  will  revive  in  every  department  of  industry  ; 
there  will  be  no  longer  any  embarrassment  in  the  way 
of  the  government,  and  France,  free  from  its  crush 
ing  burden,  will  start  anew  in  the  arena,  like  a  spirited 
horse,  well  fed  and  refreshed.  But  then  the  National 
Assembly  will  cease  to  be  a  necessity.  It  will  be  dis 
solved,  and  what  will  become  of  the  projected  consti 
tution  and  of  the  sovereignty  of  the  people?" 

"  And   of  the   sovereignty  of   Mirabeau  ? "  added 
Dubayet,  tapping  him  on  the  shoulder. 

"  True,"  replied  Mirabeau,  "  I  had  forgotten  that. 
France  must  have  a  constitutional  government  like 
England.  Louis  must  continue  to  be  a  good-natured, 
honest  drone  on  the  throne  ;  Marie  Antoinette — who, 
by  the  by,  is  the  worthy  daughter  of  Maria  Theresa, 
and  has  all  the  energy  of  a  man — must  be  contented 
to  be  the  queen  of  fashion ;  and  Honore  Gabriel  de 
Mirabeau  will  be  the  constitutional  Richelieu  of  the 
monarchy,  with  an  obedient  parliament  at  his  feet. 
Therefore,  down  with  repudiation,  and  long  live  the 
national  debt ! " 
8* 


CHAPTER   XIV. 

THE  TRIUMPH    OF  ELOQUENCE — A  GLANCE   AT  THE 
FUTURE  OF  THE  UNITED  STATES  BY  MIRABEAU. 

IT  was  about  three  o'clock  in  the  morning  when 
Mirabeau  entered  the  hall  of  the  National  Assembly, 
which  was  unusually  silent.  The  debates  had  ceased, 
and  the  members  had  agreed  to  cast  a  final  vote  on 
the  vital  question  of  national  bankruptcy,  which  had 
kept  them  so  long  in  a  state  of  intense  excitement. 
They  looked  exceedingly  fatigued  and  broken-down  ; 
some  of  them  were  sleeping  in  their  seats,  and  lean 
ing  against  the  shoulders  of  their  neighbors.  The 
lights  were  burning  dim,  as  if  the  oil  which  fed  them 
was  giving  way.  The  clerk,  slowly  arranging  and 
putting  in  order  the  papers  on  his  desk,  was  languidly 
preparing  to  call  the  names  and  ascertain  the  votes. 
In  the  galleries  occupied  by  spectators,  males  and 
females,  there  seemed  to  be  prevailing  a  sort  of  torpor, 
the  result  of  extreme  exhaustion  and  ennui.  When 
Mirabeau  appeared,  an  instantaneous  transformation 
of  the  dull  scene  took  place.  It  was  as  if  a  current 
of  electricity  had  suddenly  struck  every  human  being 
there  present — first,  a  low,  confused  murmur  ;  then  a 
general  movement,  followed  by  a  wild  burst  of  accla 
mation.  "  Ho !  ho !  here  is  Mirabeau  !  "  was  heard 
on  all  sides.  "  Hurrah  for  Mirabeau  !  "  shouted  the 
galleries.  "  Down  with  him  !  "  shrieked  some  voices. 
(178) 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  1 79 

"  Long  live  our  dear  gossip,  our*  little  mother  Mira- 
beau !  "  cried  a  troop  of  queans  of  the  fish  market. 
"  Come  to  us,  gossip  dear,  we  want  to  kiss  you." 
"  Champion  of  the  people,"  roared  a  butcher  with 
bare  arms,  shaking  with  fury  his  enormous  fist,  "  we 
have  our  eyes  on  thee.  Welcome,  and  at  work  ;  we 
are  impatient.  When  wilt  thou  send  to  the  shambles 
the  royal  ox  with  the  rest  of  the  blooded  cattle  that 
follow  his  heels?"  The  President  of  the  Assembly 
in  vain  endeavored  to  re-establish  order.  One  of  the 
members,  with  a  magnificent  head  on  shoulders  be 
longing  to  a  monstrously  large  body  which  looked  as 
if  it  weighed  five  hundred  pounds,  rose  in  a  fit  of  un 
controllable  anger.  "  Silence,  stupid  multitude,"  he 
shouted.  "  Respect  your  betters,  vile  canaille.  Long 
live  the  king  !  Down  with  the  rag-pickers  !  "  One  of 
his  colleagues  in  front  of  him  muttered  something 
which  was  imperfectly  heard.  "  Sir,"  said  the  colossus, 
"  if  you  are  not  satisfied,  I  shall  be  happy  to  give  you 
any  satisfaction  you  please."  Then  raising  his  head 
defiantly  and  looking  at  some  one  in  the  galleries 
above,  who  was  vociferating :  "  Down  with  the  Aus 
trian  hag,  Marie  Antoinette,"  he  shouted,  pointing  at 
the  man  :  "  Sergeant-at-arms,  fetch  me  here  that  cook, 
I  want  to  cut  off  his  ears  and  pin  them  to  his  dirty 
apron."  During  all  this  uproar,  Mirabeau,  who 
seemed  to  take  no  notice  of  it,  was  slowly  moving 
toward  the  tribune,  passing  between  the  benches  on 
which  sat  the  members,  bowing  right  and  left,  shaking 
hands,  and  sometimes  stopping  to  say  a  few  words. 
When  reaching  this  mountain  of  flesh  who  was  in  a 
state  of  volcanic  eruption  and  who  stood  right  in  his 


*  Notre  petite  mere  Mirabeau. 


1 80  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

way,  and  blocked  it,  as  it  were,  Mirabeau  greeted  him 
cordially,  saying:  "Good-morning,  Viscount,  you 
seem  to  be  very  mad.  What  is  the  matter?" 

"  Yes,  I  am  angry  with  you  and  your  worthy  friends, 
and  I  really  don't  see  how  it  can  be  otherwise,"  re 
plied  Mirabeau  the  younger.  "Faith!  What  a  rare 
collection  of  tatterdemalions  of  both  sexes !  I  com 
pliment  you,  brother,  on  your  refined  taste.  Truly, 
you  must  be  very  proud  of  your  alliance  with  shoe 
makers,  tailors,  and  cooks;  you,  the  eldest  and  the 
head  of  the  Riquettis  !  I  have  the  right  to  protest, 
I  think,  and  I  do  protest  in  the  name  of  an  indignant 
family." 

"  Hush  !  hush  !  dear  brother,  be  calm.  I  am  aston 
ished  to  see  you  irritated  against  shoemakers  and 
tailors,  whom  you  never  condescend  to  pay,  and 
against  cooks,  whom  you  generally  appreciate  so 
highly.  One  of  them  must  have  given  you  to-night 
a  very  bad  supper  which  has  soured  on  your  titanic 
stomach." 

"  Count,"  retorted  the  other,  "  if  we  had  not  come 
out  of  the  same  maternal  womb,  I  would  certainly 
beg  you  to  afford  me  the  opportunity  of  slitting  your 
conspicuous  nose." 

"  Pooh  !  pooh  !  Boniface,  are  you  not  ashamed  ? 
You  must  be  drunk,  as  usual.  Shall  I  forever  have  to 
reproach  you  for  that  unbecoming  vice  ?  " 

"  By  the  holy  rood !  How  unjust  and  niggardly 
you  are,  Gabriel !  "  replied  the  viscount  with  a  chuckle. 
"  Do  you  grudge  me  one  single  vice,  when  you  have 
taken  all  the  others  as  your  inheritance,  by  virtue,  I 
suppose,  of  your  right  of  primogeniture?" 

Mirabeau  turned  to  the  by-standers  and  said,  cyni 
cally  :  "  Gentlemen,  I  am  sorry  for  the  viscount.  He 


A UBERT  DUBA  YET.  jgj 

pales  before  me,  and  is  envious.  In  any  other  family 
he  would  have  been  a  scapegrace  and  a  genius.  In 
ours  he  is  an  honest  man  and  a  fool." 

There  was  loud  laughter  and  clapping  of  hands  all 
round  at  this  keen   encounter  of  wits  between   the 
brothers,  but  it  was  immediately  followed  by  a  silence 
as  profound  as  that  of  the  tomb.     Mirabeau  had  as 
cended  the  rostrum.     He  remained  motionless  for  a 
while,  with  his  arms  folded  over  his  breast,  and  his 
massive  head  bent  down  as  if  in  deep  thought.    Then, 
looking  at  the  president,  and  from  the  president  turn 
ing  his  eyes  to  the  now  stilled  crowd,  which  he  sur 
veyed  as  if  studying  his  ground,  he  said  :  "  O,  repre 
sentatives  of  the  people,  must  I  again  address  you  on 
a  subject   on  which  I   have  repeatedly  spoken,  and 
which  I  thought  exhausted  ?  "     At  first,  he  seemed  to 
seek  for  ideas  and  words ;  his  utterance  was  slow  and 
measured,  and    accompanied  with    no   gesticulation 
whatever.     There  was  hesitation  in  his  manner,  and 
something  which  indicated  a  lassitude  of  mind  and 
body,  not  unpleasant  in  its  effect  on  the  audience.    It 
elicited  sympathy,  for  every  one  felt  that  deep  and 
true  must  be  the  convictions  of  the  orator,  who,  in 
their  defense,  entering  the  arena  when  evidently  un 
prepared,  risked  his  fame  in  his  anxiety  for  the  tri 
umph   of  his  principles,  and  who,  forgetful   of  self, 
thought  only  of  the  great  cause  which  he  advocated. 
But  soon   inspiration  came,  the  waters  gushed  from 
the  rock,  and  Mirabeau  made  against  the  proposed 
decree  of  national   bankruptcy  a  speech,  which  was 
considered  by  those  who  heard  it,  one  of  the  grandest 
efforts  of  human  eloquence.     The  Assembly  rose  to 
their  feet  spontaneously,  and  almost  unanimously  re 
jected  the  measure  which,  one  moment  before,  they 
were  determined  to  adopt. 


1 82  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

Mol6,  the  first  actor  of  Paris,  was  present.  He  had 
come  at  the  head  of  a  deputation  of  comedians  to 
present  a  petition.  Attracted  by  the  importance  of 
the  debate,  he  had  determined  to  see  it  out,  and  had 
remained  the  whole  night  at  the  Assembly  with  a  party 
of  friends.  He  was  intensely  excited  by  the  speech 
of  Mirabeau.  In  a  fit  of  enthusiasm  he  rushed  to  the 
spot  where  the  orator  stood  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd 
who  were  complimenting  him,  and  exclaimed:  "O, 
count,  you  are  the  prince  of  eloquence.  What  an 
oration  !  With  what  exquisite  and  perfect  emphasis 
you  delivered  it !  How  dramatic  you  are  !  How  sub 
lime  is  your  voice !  What  variety,  what  pathos  in  its 
intonations  !  You  have  missed  your  vocation  ;  it  was 
the  stage.  You  should  have  been  one  of  us."  The 
actor  had  hardly  paid  this  tribute  of  admiration, 
when  he  became  aware  of  its  singularity.  He  smiled, 
blushed,  and  looked  a  little  confused.  But  Mirabeau 
was  evidently  very  much  pleased  ;  for  it  was  in  his  nat 
ure  to  hunger  and  thirst  after  praise  of  any  kind.  One 
of  his  friends,  who  had  remarked  that  food  of  this  qual 
ity,  administered  largely,  or  sparingly,  thin,  lean,  or 
fat,  delicately  or  coarsely  cooked,  was  always  accept 
able  to  his  greedy  appetite,  had,  one  day,  quaintly 
said  to  him  :  "  Mirabeau,  you  would  breakfast  on  an 
elephant  and  sup  on  a  flesh-worm,  if  presented  in  the 
shape  of  flattery." 

"Come  on;  day  begins  to  dawn,"  said  Mirabeau 
to  Dubayet.  "  I  have  brought  you  here ;  I  must  take 
you  to  your  home.  You  will  give  me  a  light  break 
fast,  a  cup  of  coffee,  one  egg,  and  a  toast.  I  feel  ex 
hausted  and  must  have  some  refreshment ;  for  I  have 
something  yet  to  do  which  will  not  permit  me  to  go 
to  bed  before  noon,  and  I  must  be  up  in  the  evening 


A  UBER T  D UBA  YET.  T 83 

at  six,  as  I  have  to  meet  an  important  personage  at 
seven." 

The  two  friends  were  soon  seated  at  the  breakfast- 
table.  "  Well,"  said  Mirabeau,  "  how  do  you  like  my 
speech  of  last  night,  fresh  from  La  Guimard's  toilet- 
room?  I  hope  it  did  not  smell  of  it,  and  was  not  that 
clap-trap,  would-be  imitation  of  eloquence  which  puts 
me  in  mind  of  the  thunders  and  tempests  of  the 
opera,  where  that  great  actress  reigns  in  undisputed 
supremacy.  I  hate  all  that  is  not  genuine." 

"  By  Jupiter,  it  was  real  thunder,  and  one  of  your 
most  splendid  efforts.  You  have  trampled  bankruptcy 
under  your  heel,  saved  French  honor,  and  consolidated 
the  national  debt.  I  wish  that  you  had  been  heard 
by  the  whole  Congress  of  the  United  States,  for  they 
are  quarrelling  about  assuming,  or  not,  on  behalf  of 
the  General  Government,  the  debts  contracted  by  the 
several  States  in  the  revolutionary  struggle.  The 
contest  waxes  so  hot  that  there  is  some  apprehension 
of  a  dissolution  of  the  newly-formed  Union." 

"Already  !  I  did  not  expect  it  so  soon,  whilst  their 
honeymoon  still  shines  on  the  horizon,"  said  Mira 
beau,  dropping  a  lump  of  sugar  into  his  coffee.  "  Do 
the  sovereignty  of  the  respective  States  and  that  of 
the  Federal  Government  experience  some  difficulty 
in  fusing  together,  like  this  sugar  and  coffee  which 
now  form  a  most  delicious  whole,  truly?"  and  he 
sipped  complacently  the  smoking  beverage,  while  his 
eye  glanced  at  Dubayet  with  a  rather  ironical  ex 
pression. 

"  The  accord  would  be  perfect,"  answered  Dubayet, 
"  if  the  opposite  parties  listened  to  the  wholesome 
advice  given  to  them  by  Washington.  I  call  your  at 
tention  to  this  newspaper  which  I  have  just  received 


1 84  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

from  America.  It  contains  an  interesting  letter  from 
him  to  one  of  his  friends,  Dr.  Stuart,  of  Virginia. 
But.  before  you  peruse  it,  let  me  give  you  some  ex 
planation  about  the  bone  of  contention.*  Hamilton, 
the  secretary  of  the  treasury,  in  his  official  report,  has 
urged  the  assumption  by  the  General  Government,  of 
the  separate  debts  of  the  States,  contracted  for  the 
common  cause,  and  recommends  that  a  like  pro 
vision  be  made  for  their  payment  as  for  the  payment 
of  those  of  the  Union.  They  were,  he  says,  all  con 
tracted  in  the  struggle  for  national  independence,  not 
for  the  independence  of  any  particular  part.  No 
more  money  would  be  required  for  their  discharge  as 
federal  than  as  State  debts.  Money  could  be  raised 
more  readily  by  the  Federal  Government  than  by  the 
States,  and  all  clashing  and  jealousy  between  the 
States  and  federal  creditors  would  thus  be  prevented. 
No  doubt  there  was  a  reason  which  had  great  weight 
with  him,  though  he  did  not  bring  it  into  considera 
tion  in  his  report,  for  fear,  probably,  of  offending  the 
jealousy  of  State  sovereignty,  dormant,  but  not  ex 
tinct,  and  which  was,  that  it  would  tend  to  unite  the 
States  financially,  as  they  were  united  politically,  and 
strengthen  the  central  government  by  rallying  capi 
talists  around  it,  subjecting  them  to  its  influence,  and 
rendering  them  agents  of  its  will.  He  recommends, 
therefore,  that  the  entire  mass  of  the  debt  be  funded, 
the  Union  made  responsible  for  it,  and  taxes  imposed 
for  its  liquidation.  He  suggests,  moreover,  the  ex 
pediency,  for  the  greater  security  of  the  debt  and 
punctuality  in  the  payment  of  interest,  that  the  do 
mestic  creditors,  if  not  the  foreign  ones,  submit  to  an 


*  W.  Irving's  "  Life  of  Washington,"  p.  53,  vol.  v. 


A UBER T  D UBA  YET.  185 

abatement  of  accruing  interest.  This  plan  is  opposed 
with  great  earnestness,  especially  the  point  of  assum 
ing  the  State  debts,  as  tending  to  consolidation,  as 
giving  an  undue  influence  to  the  General  Govern 
ment,  and  as  being  of  doubtful  constitutionality.  The 
financial  union  of  the  States  is  strongly  reprobated, 
not  only  on  the  floor  of  Congress,  but  in  different 
parts  of  the  Union,  as  fraught  with  political  evil.  The 
Northern  and  Eastern  States  favor  the  plan,  but  the 
Southern  States,  with  the  exception  of  South  Caro 
lina,  manifest  a  determined  opposition,  because  it  is 
supposed  that  the  funding  of  the  State  debts  would 
chiefly  benefit  the  Northern  States,  in  which  is  the 
entire  capital  of  the  country.  A  letter  to  Washing 
ton  from  his  friend,  Dr.  Stuart,  whom  I  have  already 
mentioned,  spoke  with  alarm  of  the  jealous  belief 
growing  up  in  Virginia,  averring  that  the  Northern 
and  Eastern  States  were  combining  to  pursue  their 
own  exclusive  interests.  Many,  he  observed,  who  had 
heretofore  been  warm  supporters  of  the  new  govern 
ment,  were  changing  their  sentiments,  from  a  convic 
tion  of  the  impracticability  of  the  union  with  States 
whose  interests  were  so  dissimilar.  Now  for  Wash 
ington's  reply." 

Mirabeau  took  up  the  journal  which  had  been 
placed  before  him  by  Dubayet,  and  read  aloud :  "  I 
am  sorry  such  jealousies  as  you  speak  of  should  be 
gaining  ground  and  possessing  the  minds  of  the 
Southern  people  ;  but  admit  the  fact  which  is  alleged 
as  the  cause  of  them,  and  give  it  full  scope,  does  it 
amount  to  more  than  was  known  to  every  man  of  in 
formation  before,  at,  and  since,  the  adoption  of  the 
new  constitution  ?  Was  it  not  always  believed  that 
there  are  some  points  which  peculiarly  interest  the 


1 86  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

Eastern  States?  And  did  any  one  who  reads  human 
nature,  and  more  especially  the  character  of  the  East 
ern  people,  conceive  that  they  would  not  pursue  those 
interests  steadily  by  a  combination  of  their  force  ? 
Are  there  not  other  points  which  equally  concern  the 
Southern  States?  If  these  States  are  less  tenacious 
of  their  interest,  or  if,  while  the  Eastern  move  in  a 
solid  phalanx  to  effect  their  views,  the  Southern  are 
always  divided,  which  of  the  two  is  most  to  be 
blamed?  That  there  is  diversity  in  the  Union,  none 
has  denied.  That  this  is  the  case,  also,  in  every  State, 
is  equally  certain  ;  and  that  it  even  extends  to  the 
counties  of  individual  States,  can  be  as  readily  proved  ; 
instance  the  southern  and  northern  parts  of  Virginia, 
the  upper  and  lower  parts  of  South  Carolina.  Have 
not  the  interests  of  these  always  been  at  variance  ? 
Witness  the  county  of  Fairfax.  Have  not  the  inter 
ests  of  the  people  of  that  county  varied,  or  the  in 
habitants  been  taught  to  believe  so  ?  These  are  well- 
known  truths,  and  yet  it  did  not  follow  that  separa 
tion  was  to  result  from  the  disagreement. 

"  To  constitute  a  dispute,  there  must  be  two  par 
ties.  To  understand  it  well,  both  parties,  and  all  the 
circumstances,  must  be  fully  heard ,  and,  to  accom 
modate  differences,  temper  and  much  forbearance  are 
requisite.  Common  danger  brought  the  States  into 
confederacy,  and  on  their  union  our  safety  and  inde 
pendence  depend.  A  spirit  of  accommodation  was 
the  basis  of  the  present  constitution.  Can  it  be  ex 
pected,  then,  that  the  Southern  or  Eastern  parts  of 
the  empire  will  succeed  in  all  their  measures?  Cer 
tainly  not.  But  I  will  readily  grant  that  more  points 
will  be  carried  by  the  latter  than  the  former,  and  for 
the  reason  which  has  been  mentioned :  namely,  that 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  I  g/ 

in  all  great  national  questions,  they  move  in  unison, 
whilst  the  others  are  divided.  But  I  ask  again,  which 
is  roost  praiseworthy,  those  who  see  and  will  steadily 
pursue  their  interests,  or  those  who  can  not  see,  or 
seeing,  will  not  act  wisely?  And  I  will  ask  another 
question  of  the  highest  magnitude  in  my  mind,  to- 
wit :  if  the  Northern  and  Eastern  States  are  danger 
ous  in  union,  will  they  be  less  so  in  separation  ?  If 
self-interest  is  their  governing  principle,  will  it  forsake 
them,  or  be  restrained  by  such  an  event?  I  hardly 
think  it  would.  Then,  independently  of  other  con 
siderations,  what  would  Virginia,  and  such  other 
States  as  might  be  inclined  to  join  her,  gain  by  a  sep 
aration  ?  Would  they  not,  most  unquestionably,  be 
the  weaker  party  ?  " 

After  having  read,  Mirabeau,  dropping  the  paper 
on  the  table,  said  :  "  Very  sensible  indeed,  and  prac 
tical in  Utopia.  But  in  this  world  of  ours, 

constituted  as  it  is,  it  will  be  the  voice  in  the  wilder 
ness.  Washington,  when  he  founded  his  model  re 
public,  forgot  to  reckon  with  the  passions  of  men. 
These  are  their  rulers,  and  not  cold-blooded  reason, 
or  virtue.  Before  the  American  confederacy  is  one 
hundred  years  old,  there  will  be  separation,  or  an  at 
tempt  at  separation." 

"Why?"  inquired  Dubayet. 

"  Because,  as  Washington  admits,  their  interests 
are  at  variance  in  a  vast  territory,  where  they  are  far 
more  irreconcilable  than  in  a  small  one,  and  because, 
as  Washington  again  admits,  the  Southern  States  are 
weaker  than  their  associates.  If  they  are  weaker, 
they  will  be  oppressed  ;  and,  being  oppressed,  they 
will  try  to  resist,  and  redress  their  wrongs,  if  they  are 
high-spirited  people,  as  I  suppose  them  to  be ;  and  if 


!  88  A  UBER  T  D UBA  YE  T. 

they  use  force,  as  they  will  probably  be  tempted  to 
do,  they  will  be  crushed." 

"Why?" 

"You  ask  me  why  again.  Washington  tells  you: 
because  they  are  the  weaker  party." 

"  What  then  ?  "  said  Dubayet. 

"  When  the  Southern  States  are  crushed,"  con 
tinued  Mirabeau,  "  the  confederation  will  become  con 
solidation  and  centralization.  The  States,  although 
they  may  be  allowed  to  retain  nominally  their  sover 
eignty,  as  a  bauble  for  their  childish  vanity  to  play 
with,  will  in  reality  be  mere  provinces  ruled  by  an 
omnipotent  central  government.  Then  the  deluge, 
my  friend,  and  good-bye  to  liberty.  A  government 
of  majorities,  under  which  there  is  no  protection  for 
minorities,  except  such  as  is  granted  according  to  the 
good  pleasure  of  king  numbers,  is  the  most  frightful 
of  all  despotisms.  Everything,  of  course,  will  con 
tinue  to  be  done  in  the  name  of  liberty,  as,  under  the 
Caesars  in  Rome,  the  will  of  the  imperial  master  was 
manifested  in  the  name  of  the  Roman  Senate  and 
people.  But  vale ;  I  see  that  you  look  drowsy.  You 
need  rest ;  go  to  bed,  you  are  not  like  me,  a  man  of 
iron.  By-the-by,  do  not  forget,  the  day  after  to 
morrow,  to  be  at  midnight  at  the  National  Assembly. 
It  is  the  hour  I  have  chosen  to  speak  in  opposition  to 
those  who  wish  to  have  no  other  church  in  France 
than  the  Roman  Catholic.  Antiquated  nonsense ! 
As  if  religious  toleration  was  not  the  universal  cry  of 
the  age!  A  fair  field,  and  a  free  fight — every  man 
for  himself — God  for  all — and  the  devil  take  the  hind 
most  !  "  He  ran  down-stairs  laughing,  and  the  chariot 
of  the  man  of  iron,  as  he  called  himself,  was  heard 
rattling  away  furiously,  as  if  he  had  some  precious 
time  lost  to  regain. 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


189 


It  must  not  be  taken  for  granted  that  the  disaffec 
tion  to  the  new-born  republic  of  the  United  States 
was  imaginary,  or  confined  to  a  few  ;  for  Jefferson,  who 
had  just  returned  to  America,  thus  communicated 
his  impressions  to  a  friend :  "  Being*  fresh  from  the 
French  revolution,  while  in  its  first  and  pure  stage, 
and,  consequently,  somewhat  whetted  up  in  my  own 
republican  principles,  I  found  a  state  of  things  in  the 
general  society  of  this  place  which  I  could  not  have 
thought  possible.  The  revolution  I  had  left,  and  that 
we  had  just  gone  through  in  the  recent  change  of  our 
government,  being  the  common  topic  of  conversa 
tion,  I  was  astonished  to  find  the  general  prevalence 
of  monarchical  sentiments,  in  so  much,  that  in  main 
taining  those  of  republicanism,  I  had  always  the  whole 
company  on  my  hands,  never  scarcely  finding  among 
them  a  single  coadvocate  in  that  argument,  unless 
some  old  member  of  Congress  happened  to  be  pres 
ent.  The  furthest  that  any  one  would  go  in  support 
of  the  republican  features  of  our  government,  would 
be  to  say  :  '  The  present  constitution  is  well  as  a  be 
ginning,  and  may  be  allowed  a  fair  trial,  but  it  is,  in 
fact,  only  a  stepping-stone  to  something  better.  ' ' 
Had  this  letter  of  Jefferson  been  published  in  France 
in  1790,  it  would  have  created  profound  astonishment, 
and  might  have  checked  the  enthusiasm  of  some  of 
the  republicans  of  the  day. 

It  had  been  proposed  in  the  National  Assembly  that 
all  modes  of  worship  should  be  tolerated  in  France, 
but  that  the  Catholic,  Apostolic,  and  Roman  Church 
should  be  the  predominating  one  and  the  representa 
tive  of  the  religion  of  the  state.  Aubert  Dubayet, 


*  W.  Irving's  "  Life  of  Washington,"  p.  57,  vol.  v. 


190 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


according  to  the  invitation  which  he  had  received  from 
Mirabeau,  did  not  fail  to  be  present  when  that  ques 
tion  came  up,  and  arrived  just  at  the  time  when  Mira 
beau  was  ascending  the  tribune. 

"  I  do  not  come  here,"  said  the  orator,  "  to  preach 
toleration.  The  most  unlimited  freedom  of  religious 
worship  is  to  me  so  sacred  a  right  that  the  word  tol 
eration,  applied  to  it,  sounds  tyrannical  to  my  ears, 
because,  if  the  State  can  tolerate,  it  can  prohibit, 
whilst  no  human  legislation  ought  to  interpose  be 
tween  man  and  his  Creator.  Religion  is  a  conviction 
— a  feeling — an  opinion — and  surely  none  here,  in 
these  days  of  national  regeneration  at  the  baptismal 
fount  of  liberty,  will  maintain  that  our  convictions 
and  our  opinions  must  not  be  as  free  as  the  air  which 
feeds  our  lungs." 

"Admitting  that,"  shouted  the  fiery  abbe  Maury, 
"  it  can  not  be  denied  that  the  manifestation  of  opin 
ions  may  legitimately  fall  within  the  range  of  police 
regulations." 

"  So  thought  and  spoke  Nero  and  Domitian,"  re 
torted  Mirabeau.  "  It  was  as  a  matter  of  police  that 
they  persecuted  the  Christians,  and  shed  the  blood 
of  martyrs  to  maintain  public  order.  That  is  the  well- 
known  phrase.  But  who  is  not  aware  that  there  is  a 
slang  for  the  imperial  lips  of  tyranny,  as  well  as  for. 
those  of  gutter-born  demagogues  ?  " 

"  The  kings  of  France,"  exclaimed  a  deputy,  inter 
rupting  him,  "  have  always  been  proclaimed  the  eldest 
sons  of  the  Church,  and  have  gloried  in  the  title.  It 
is  at  least  certain  that,  on  the  25th  of  January,  1677, 
Louis  XIV.  solemnly  swore  in  Cambrai  to  permit  in 
that  city  the  existence  of  no  other  worship  than  the 
Catholic,  Apostolic,  and  Roman  religion.  I  am  a  rep- 


AUBERT  DUBAYET.  19! 

resentative  of  Cambrai,  and  I  claim  the  benefit  of  that 
royal  oath." 

"  There  can  be  no  doubt,  and  it  can  not  be  won 
dered  at,"  answered  Mirabeau  with  the  most  impos 
ing  expression  of  calm  dignity,  "  that,  under  a  reign 
which  was  marked  by  the  revocation  of  the  edict  of 
Nantes,  and  on  which  I  refrain  from  passing  judg 
ment,  a  want  of  toleration  in  everything  was  the  uni 
form  policy  of  the  monarch.  I  hope,  however,  that 
the  acts  of  despots,  in  days  of  national  servitude,  are 
not  to  be  presented  to  our  recollection  as  precedents 
to  be  followed  by  the  representatives  of  a  free  people. 
But,  as  a  historical  citation  has  been  made  in  connec 
tion  with  the  subject  of  our  deliberations,  I  will  take 
the  liberty  of  making  one  in  my  turn."  He  paused. 
There  was  something  in  his  manner,  in  his  accent,  in 
his  look,  which  made  the  whole  Assembly  hold  its 
breath. 

"  Remember,  representatives  of  the  people,"  he 
said,  "  remember  that  here,  from  this  very  tribune 
from  which  I  address  you,  is  to  be  seen  the  window  of 
the  palace  at  which  stood,  on  a  memorable  occasion, 
a  king  of  France,  who,  at  the  instigation  of  a  faction 
of  fanatic  traitors  serving  their  own  selfish  purposes 
in  the  name  of  the  sacred  interests  of  religion,  fired, 
with  a  royal  hand  guided  by  them,  the  fatal  arquebuse 
which  gave  the  signal  for  the  St.  Bartholomew  mas 
sacre." 

This  was  said  with  a  sweeping  gesticulation  that 
seemed  to  take  in  its  grasp  the  whole  Assembly  and 
to  carry  them  to  the  accursed  window  from  which 
they  could  imagine  that  they  saw  the  Huguenots  fall 
bleeding  and  shrieking  on  the  quays  of  the  Seine  in 
front  of  the  Louvre.  Every  one  looked  spontaneously 


1 92 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


in  that  direction,  remaining  motionless  and  pale  as  if 
stunned  by  a  thunderbolt.  This  lasted  but  a  minute 
or  two,  and  was  followed  by  an  enthusiastic  burst  of 
applause.  Mirabeau  had  carried  by  storm  the  decree 
for  the  freedom  of  all  modes  and  forms  of  worship  on 
the  broad  surface  of  France. 

"You  have  been  sublime,"  exclaimed  Dubayet, 
when  he  could  join  the  orator. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  Mirabeau,  who  evidently  en 
joyed  to  the  utmost  his  splendid  triumph.  "  You 
were  born  in  Louisiana ;  you  fought  for  the  freedom 
of  the  United  States.  It  is  gratifying  to  me  to  accept 
you  as  the  representative  of  America.  Faith !  It  is 
something,  I  think,  that  a  voice  from  that  distant 
world  should  sweep  across  the  ocean,  and  bring  me  in 
your  person  a  tribute  of  applause  from  the  wilderness. 
Well,  well,  I  will  reward  you,  child  of  the  forest,"  and 
he  pinched  playfully  Dubayet's  ear;  "come  to  me 
to-morrow,  at  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  I  want 
to  make  a  holiday  of  it  and  take  a  little  rest.  You 
will  see  Mirabeau  en  deshabille",  and  then,  to  complete 
the  feast,  I  will  take  you  to  dine  with  Talleyrand  at 
seven  o'clock.  He  is  the  object  of  much  obloquy,  but 
he  is,  after  all,  a  princely  fellow — by  birth,  and  by 
his  own  making.  I  like  him  hugely.  C'est  un  fort 
grand  seigneur  et  un  demon  d' esprit." 


CHAPTER   XV. 

MIRABEAU  IN  HIS  DRESSING-ROOM,  d  SO,  toilette — A 
VALET  WHOSE  HAPPINESS  CONSISTS  IN  BEING 
BEATEN  BY  HIS  MASTER. 

AUBERT  DUBAYET  was  punctual  at  the  rendezvous. 
Mirabeau  was  then  living  in  a  splendid  mansion,  where 
opulence  and  taste  had  gathered  all  that  could  flatter 
the  senses.  It  was  filled  by  a  host  of  lacqueys 
dressed  in  gorgeous  livery;  and  a  rich  chariot,  on 
which  he  sported  conspicuously  his  antique  coat-of- 
arms,  was  not  unworthy  of  his  blooded  horses.  None 
but  Mirabeau  could  have  dared  to  act  as  he  did,  and 
with  impunity,  but  he  was,  at  that  time,  the  spoiled 
pet,  the  idol  of  the  people.  They  forgave  him,  or 
did  not  care  to  notice,  or  to  take  amiss,  what  they 
looked  upon  as  vagaries  and  eccentricities,  to  which 
they  attached  no  offensive  meaning.  Careless  of  con 
sequences,  he  who  had  opened  a  shop  at  Aix  as  a 
cloth  merchant,  to  ingratiate  himself  with  the  people 
and  become  their  representative  in  the  great  National 
Assembly,  convoked  by  the  king — he  who  had  abdica 
ted  his  nobility  and  apparently  descended  into  the 
plebeian  ranks — never  forgot,  never  permitted  others 
to  forget,  that  he  was  a  patrician.  For  his  domestics, 
for  his  friends,  for  his  enemies,  for  everybody,  he  was 
the  Comte  de  Mirabeau.  There  were  many  who  won 
dered  how  a  man  who  had  come  to  the  National  As 
sembly  with  nothing  but  debts,  could  find  the  means 
9 


194 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


of  living  like  a  Sardanapalus.  Where  was  the  source 
from  which  he  drew  all  the  gold  that  he  scattered 
with  such  reckless  profusion  ?  Rumors  were  rife,  and 
not  to  his  credit,  but  still  they  did  not  affect  his  popu 
larity. 

When  Aubert  Dubayet  called,  he  found  Mirabeau 
in  a  loose  morning  robe  of  elegant  blue  velvet,  span 
gled  with  gold,  and  slippers  of  the  same  materials, 
giving  audience  to  a  motley  crew  of  men  and  women, 
of  the  lowest  class.  They  had  come  to  supplicate 
him  to  protect  them  against  the  veto,  on  which  the 
National  Assembly  had  been  deliberating.  The  ques 
tion  was,  whether  under  the  constitution  which  they 
were  framing,  the  king  should  have  a  qualified  veto,  or 
an  absolute  one,  or  no  veto  at  all.  Those  who  were  in 
favor  of  the  veto  intended  it  as  an  indispensable  check 
on  the  deliberative  assemblies  which  would,  in  the 
future,  legislate  for  France.  What  the  veto  was  in 
reality,  by  far  the  greater  number  of  the  people  could 
not  understand.  But  it  was,  in  their  eyes,  a  sort  of 
monster  which  assumed  all  sorts  of  imaginable  shapes. 
It  was  sure  to  deprive  them  of  shelter,  work,  bread, 
and  everything  else,  if  not  devour  them  all.  The  less 
it  was  understood,  the  more  terrific  it  appeared  in  its 
vague  and  indefinite  form,  wrapped  up  in  mystery  and 
gloom. 

"Monsieur  le  comte"  cried  the  ignorant  wretches 
with  tears  of  terror  in  their  eyes,  "  you  are  the  father 
of  the  people.  You  are  bound  in  duty  to  save  us,  to 
defend  us  against  those  wicked  traitors  who  wish  to 
surrender  us,  hands  and  feet  tied  up,  to  the  bloody 
rod  of  despotism.  King  Veto  will  destroy  the  Na 
tional  Assembly.  All  will  be  lost,  and  we  shall  be 
slaves."  The  "  father  of  the  people,"  as  he  was  called, 


A  UBER T  D UBA  YET.  j  95 

listened  with  much  paternal  patience  to  a  good  deal 
of  this  incoherent  and  absurd  language.  The  terms  and 
sentiments  were  frequently  such  as  to  provoke  irre 
sistible  laughter.  But  Mirabeau  looked  grave  and 
compassionate,  and  acted  his  part  admirably.  At 
last,  with  infinite  art,  and  without  committing  himself 
to  any  course  whatever,  he,  in  a  rather  lordly  but  af 
fectionate  manner,  dismissed  the  petitioners,  satisfied 
with  his  indefinite  assurances  of  protection.  When 
these  strange  visitors  had  departed,  Mirabeau  threw 
himself  upon  a  sofa,  exclaiming  :  "  Pho  !  oh  !  This 
is  intolerable.  My  popularity  has  become  a  burden 
under  which  I  am  literally  crushed."  He  rang  a  bell ; 
a  valet  made  his  appearance.  "  Teutch,"  he  said, 
"  close  my  doors,  I  am  not  in  for  anybody,"  and,  turn 
ing  to  Dubayet,  he  added :  "  You  have  no  idea  how 
I  am  besieged — a  constant  throng;  my  antechambers 
are  always  crowded  to  suffocation." 

The  whole  scene  had  appeared  extremely  ludicrous 
to  Dubayet,  as  he  knew  that  Mirabeau  had  been  in 
favor  of  giving  an  absolute  veto  power  to  the  king. 
This  question  had  come  up  in  the  National  Assembly 
before  they  had  decided  one  which  ought  to  have 
taken  the  precedence — that  is,  whether  the  future 
legislative  power  of  France,  under  the  new  constitu 
tion,  was  to  be  divided  into  two  chambers,  or  not. 
If  in  two,  an  absolute  veto  was  not  so  necessary  to 
the  executive,  because  it  was  to  be  supposed  that  the 
chambers  might  often  disagree  and  not  be  led  to  act 
on  all  questions  in  common  accord,  so  easily  as  a  sin 
gle  one  would.  Hence  a  qualified  veto  might  suffice. 
But  if,  in  the  future,  the  legislative  branch  of  the  gov 
ernment,  like  the  present  one,  was  to  continue  to  be  but 
one  body,  the  absolute  veto  power  could  not  be  dis- 


1 96  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

pensed  with  as  an  appendage  to  royalty,  which,  with 
out  that  protection,  would  be  swept  away  like  chaff, 
the  real  sovereignty  being  only  in  the  Assembly. 
But  even  if  armed  with  the  veto,  it  was  clear  that  the 
king  would  not  be  safe  in  the  exercise  of  his  authority, 
and  would  not  be  able  to  maintain  his  will  against  the 
will  of  the  representatives  of  the  people  acting  in  a 
body.  Hence  Mirabeau,  who  desired  the  creation  of 
two  chambers,  but  who  did  not  know  as  yet  whether 
that  feature  would  be  inserted  in  the  constitution, 
was,  as  a  choice  of  evils,  in  favor  of  the  absolute  veto, 
which  he  intended  as  a  temporary  measure,  and  which 
he  thought  a  necessary  check  on  popular  assemblies, 
until  further  developments  in  the  work  of  political 
organization  should  enable  him  to  see  better  his  way. 
He  had  even  spoken  on  the  subject  in  the  Assembly, 
but  he  had  purposely  been  so  obscure  and  diffuse,  his 
discourse  had  been  such  a  masterpiece  of  non-com 
mittal,  that  the  public  in  the  galleries  had  not  undcr- 
.stood  his  drift ;  but  the  National  Assembly  had  dis 
covered,  through  his  sibylline  language,  equivocal 
and  twisted  in  its  meaning  as  it  was,  that  he  stood  in 
favor  of  the  absolute  veto,  and  this  had  given  great 
offense  to  the  fanatics  in  what  was  called  the  party  of 
progress.  When  the  votes  were  taken  on  the  question, 
he  had  deemed  it  prudent  to  be  absent.  Hence  the 
people  never  could  be  made  to  believe,  that  he  could 
be  friendly  to  the  bugbear  or  vampire  which  haunted 
their  imagination.  Mirabeau,  being  taxed  by  a  friend 
with  moral  cowardice  for  having  shirked  the  respon 
sibility  of  his  vote  on  that  occasion,  had  replied : 
"  Tut !  man,  those  asses  [meaning  his  colleagues  of 
the  Assembly]  had  brought  the  question  premature 
ly,  I  can  not  afford  yet  to  lose  my  popularity ;  I 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  !  97 

must  keep  it  to  save  those  fools  from  their  own  blun 
ders.  Believe  me  ;  were  I  to  die  before  accomplish- 
ing  what  I  have  in  view,  those  senseless  reformers 
would  bring  the  king  and  themselves  to  the  scaffold." 

Whilst  Mirabeau  was  talking,  Teutch  was  prepar 
ing  all  the  necessary  implements  and  ingredients  for 
the  toilet  of  his  master,  which  always  lasted  very  long 
and  was  very  elaborate.  Teutch  had  been  a  cele 
brated  smuggler,  and  wonderful  traits  of  daring  and 
of  fool-hardy  courage  were  related  of  him.  He  was 
a  sort  of  tamed  lion  whom  Mirabeau  had  in  his  serv 
ice,  and  of  all  sublunary  things  he  loved  and  admired 
his  patron  the  most.  "  Aubert,"  said  Mirabeau,  "  ex 
cuse  me  for  a  while.  I  must  step  into  my  cabinet, 
where  I  have,  besides  my  secretary,  three  men  at 
work  in  preparing  materials  for  me.  I'll  be  back  in  a 
trice.  I  leave  you  with  Teutch.  Take  care  that  he 
does  not  eat  you  up,  for  he  looks  very  fierce  to-day  "; 
and  he  disappeared  behind  a  heavy  curtain  in  tapestry, 
concealing  a  door  which  opened  into  another  apart 
ment. 

"  I  have  good  reasons  to  be  sullen,"  growled  Teutch 
between  his  teeth. 

"  What  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  "  said  Dubayet. 

"  Ah !  Sir,"  answered  Teutch,  heaving  a  deep  sigh, 
"  Monsieur  le  comte  has  been  very  reserved  with  me 
for  more  than  a  week.  He  has  not  condescended  to 
give  me  the  least  sign  of  the  friendly  familiarity  with 
which  he  was  in  the  habit  of  honoring  me.  It  breaks 
my  heart ;  I  can  not  stand  it  any  longer.  But  I  will 
soon  put  him  to  the  test — this  very  day.  Should  he 
continue  to  treat  me  so  harshly,  I  will  blow  out  my 
brains  in  his  presence  ;  for  there  is  not  a  single  mem 
ber  of  his  household  who  could  live  under  his  dis- 


I  gg  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

pleasure.  We  all  adore  him,  and  would  not  hesitate 
to  die  for  one  who  is  so  good  to  us,  and  who  is  the 
honor  and  the  pride  of  France." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear,"  said  Dubayet,  to  keep  up  the 
conversation  with  the  faithful  servant,  "  that  you  ad 
mire  and  love  him  so  much." 

"  Admire  him  !  Sir,  who  would  not  ?  I  wish  you 
could  see  us  peeping  at  him  through  every  hole,  and 
from  every  nook,  corner,  and  hiding-place,  when  he  is 
rehearsing." 

"  Rehearsing !  " 

"  To  be  sure.  Thus  he  walks,  to  and  fro,  in  that 
large  parlor  where  there  are  so  many  mirrors.  Thus 
he  stands  before  one  of  them,  swelling  his  chest, 
throwing  his  head  back,  making  his  adversaries  talk, 
and  replying  to  them:  '  Ha!  you  say  so  and  so,  Mr. 
L'abbe,  Maury !  Very  well;  and  you,  Mr.  Barnave,  are 
these  your  sentiments?  Go  on,  and  explain  them 
fully ;  Mr.  le  comte  de  Mirabeau  will  answer  you  as 
follows.'  That  is  the  way  he  speaks  of  himself.  It 
is  superb,  Sir.  Sometimes,  we  are  so  transported  with 
admiration,  that  we  can  not  refrain  from  betraying 
ourselves  by  our  applause,  and  he  throws  at  our  heads 
everything  that  he  can  lay  his  hands  upon." 

Teutch  was  interrupted  by  Mirabeau,  who  returned 
in  a  terrific  fit  of  rage  and  shouted  to  him  :  "  Rascal, 
what  have  you  done  with  those  important  papers 
which,  three  hours  ago,  I  ordered  you  to  carry  in  haste 
to  my  secretary  ?  " 

"  I  have  lost  them." 

"  Lost  them  !  "  echoed  Mirabeau  with  increasing 
wrath ;  and  seizing  Teutch  by  the  throat  with  one 
hand,  he  knocked  him  down  with  the  other.  Teutch 
picked  himself  up  with  a  face  beaming  with  satisfac- 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  !  99 

tion,  rubbing  his  hands  in  high  glee  and  cracking  his 
sides  with  laughter.  "  Thank  you,  Monsieur  lecomte" 
he  said  with  a  respectful  bow.  "  I  hope  you  will  not 
neglect  so  long  in  the  future  to  give  me  some  proof 
of  your  kind  regard.  Excuse  me  if  I  have  had  re 
course  to  a  stratagem  to  compel  you  to  notice  your 
loving  servant.  Here  are  the  papers,"  and  he  drew 
them  out  of  his  pocket. 

Mirabeau  looked  at  him  with  stupefaction.  "  Who 
on  earth  could  believe  this  ?"  he  said.  "  I  must  beat 
this  odd  fish  to  make  him  happy  !  "  And  then,  seat 
ing  himself  before  a  table  on  which  stood  a  beautiful 
Venetian  looking-glass,  "  Very  well,  Teutch,"  con 
tinued  he,  "  if  you  are  so  well  pleased  with  the  kind 
ness  which  I  have  just  now  exhibited  to  you,  return 
the  favor  by  dressing  my  hair  after  your  best  fashion  ; 
bushy — bushy — the  lion's  main,  you  know.  Do  the 
most  you  can  for  this  head  of  mine,  whilst  it  is  in  this 
world ;  for,  when  it  is  gone,  you  shall  not  look  upon 
its  like  again." 

Teutch  began  to  work  at  the  august  head  intrusted 
to  his  care  with  as  much  solemnity  as  if  it  had  been 
that  of  the  Olympian  God  whose  nod  shook  the  whole 
vault  of  heaven. 

"  Now,  dear  Aubert,"  said  Mirabeau,  "  whilst  this 
honest  fellow  operates,  do  me  the  favor  to  relate 
something  of  interest.  What  have  you  been  doing 
of  late?" 

"  I  breakfasted  this  morning  with  the  Marquis  de 
la  Luzerne,  General  Lafayette,  and  Gouverneur 
Morris." 

"  Pray,  give  me  a  synopsis  of  their  conversation,  if 
it  can  be  done  without  indiscretion." 

"  There  can  be  no  indiscretion  whatever.    The  Mar- 


200  *  UBER  T  D  USA  YE  T. 

quis  de  la  Luzerne  said  to  Lafayette :  '  My  dear  gen 
eral,  I  consider  you  as  being  at  the  head  of  the  revo 
lution;  and,  indeed,  it  is  a  very  fortunate  circum 
stance  for  the  State  that  you  are,  but  very  little  so  for 
yourself.  Never  has  any  man  been  placed  in  a  more 
critical  situation.  A  good  citizen,  a  faithful  subject, 
you  are  embarrassed  by  a  thousand  difficulties  in  mak 
ing  many  people  sensible  of  what  is  proper,  who  very 
often  feel  it  not,  and  who  sometimes  do  not  under 
stand  what  it  is.'  * 

"  '  It  is  true,'  replied  Lafayette,  *  but  I  hope  that  I 
shall  weather  the  storm.  We  have  thus  far  advanced 
in  the  career  of  the  revolution  without  the  vessel  of 
the  State  being  wrecked  against  the  rocks  of  aristoc 
racy,  or  faction.  In  the  midst  of  efforts,  always  re 
newing,  of  the  partisans  of  the  past  and  of  the  am 
bitious,  we  progress  toward  a  tolerable  conclusion. 
At  present,  that  which  existed  has  been  destroyed  ; 
a  new  political  edifice  is  forming  ;  without  being  per 
fect,  it  is  sufficient  to  assure  liberty.  Thus  prepared, 
the  nation  will  be  in  a  state  to  elect,  in  two  years,  a 
convention  which  can  correct  the  faults  of  the  consti 
tution.  The  result  will,  I  hope,  be  happy  for  our 
country  and  for  humanity.  One  perceives  the  germs 
of  liberty  in  other  parts  of  Europe.  I  will  encourage 
their  development  by  all  the  means  in  my  power.'  f 

" '  The  time  approaches  when  all  good  men  must 
cling  to  the  throne,'  put  in  Gouverneur  Morris,  who, 
as  you  know,  is  no  enthusiast  with  regard  to  the  rev 
olution,  and  who  looks  on  its  progress  with  a  doubt 
ing  mind.  '  The  present  king  is  very  valuable  on  ac- 


*  Marquis  de  la  Luzerne's  Letter  to  Washington, 
f  General  Lafayette's  Letter  to  Washington. 


A  UBER T  D UBA  YET.  2O I 

count  of  his  moderation  ;  and  if  he  should  possess 
too  much  authority,  might  be  persuaded  to  grant  a 
proper  constitution.  That  thing  called  a  constitution, 
which  the  Assembly  have  framed,  is  good  for  nothing. 
As  to  yourself,  general,  allow  me  to  tell  you  frankly 
that  your  situation  is  very  delicate.  You,  nominally, 
but  not  really,  command  the  troops.  Under  present 
circumstances,  I  do  not  understand  how  you  are  to 
establish  discipline  among  them ;  but,  unless  you  can 
accomplish  that  object,  you  must  be  ruined,  sooner  or 
later.  Besides,  you  have  unluckily  given  in  to  meas 
ures,  as  to  the  constitution,  which  you  do  not  heartily 
approve,  and  you  have  heartily  approved  many  things 
which  experience,  I  am  afraid,  will  demonstrate  to  be 
injurious.'  * 

"  '  Washington  gives  me  more  encouragement  than 
you  do,  Morris/  replied  Lafayette.  '  Thus  he  writes 
to  me :  "  Happy  am  I,  my  good  friend,  thav,  amidst 
all  the  tremendous  tempests  which  have  assailed  your 
political  ship,  you  have  had  address  and  fortitude 
enough  to  steer  her  hitherto  safely  through  the  quick 
sands  and  rocks  which  threatened  instant  destruction 
on  every  side,  and  that  your  young  king,  in  all  things, 
seems  so  well  disposed  to  conform  to  the  wishes  of 
the  nation.  In  such  an  important,  such  a  hazardous 
voyage,  when  everything  dear  and  sacred  is  embarked, 
you  know  full  well,  my  best  wishes  have  never  left 
you  for  a  moment.  Yet  I  will  avow,  that  the  accounts 
we  received  through  the  English  papers,  which  were 
sometimes  our  only  channel  of  information,  caused 
our  fears  of  failure  almost  to  exceed  our  expectations 
of  success."  '  " 


*  Morris  to  Washington,  22d  of  January,  1790. 


202  *  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

11  Aubert  Dubayet,"  said  Mirabeau,  "  the  fears  of 
Washington  are  not  chimerical.  Already  has  the 
Jacobin  club  of  Paris  sent  forth  ramifications  through 
out  France ;  corresponding  clubs  are  springing  up  by 
hundreds  in  the  provinces,  and  everything  is  hurry 
ing  forward  to  a  catastrophe."* 

"  I  rely  on  Lafayette  and  his  popularity,"  observed 
Dubayet. 

"  Bah  !  What  virgin  innocence  !  "  replied  Mirabeau. 
"  Lafayette  has  no  energy.  He  has  some  talent,  I 
admit,  but  it  is  of  a  uniform  mediocrity.  He  always 
possesses  it  and  finds  it  ready  at  hand  when  wanted, 
but  he  never  rises  above  its  level.  Is  that  enough  ? 
No.  When  the  wind  of  revolution  blows  into  a  tem 
pest,  it  is  not  the  hand  of  mediocrity  that  will  steer 
the  ship  safely  into  port.  As  to  popularity!  Whew  ! 
He  who  relies  on  it,  reckons  without  his  host,  or 
rather  attempts  to  ride  and  to  guide  the  ever-chang 
ing  wind.  Remember  that  there  is  but  one  step  from 
the  capitol  to  the  Tarpeian  rock." 

At  that  moment  his  secretary  came  in,  and  said  to 
him  :  "Monsieur  le  comte,  I  regret  that  I  am  compelled 
to  inform  you,  in  my  name  and  on  behalf  of  the  gen 
tlemen  employed  with  me,  that  it  is  impossible  to  do 
the  work  which  you  require  of  us  within  the  time  you 
specify." 

"Impossible!"  exclaimed  Mirabeau,  starting  up. 
"  Never  use,  when  addressing  me,  that  stupid  word. 
Go  back,  Sir,  and  execute  what  I  have  told  you,  or  I 
will  do  it  myself,  to  show  you  that  nothing  is  impos 
sible." 

By  this  time,  Teutch  had  done  dressing  and  pow- 


*  Irving's  "  Life  of  Washington,"  p.  73,  vol.  v. 


A  UBER  T  D  USA  YE  T. 

dering  Mirabeau's  head.  The  great  man  rose,  and, 
looking  complacently  at  himself  in  the  glass  before 
him,  said  :  "  It  is  very  well,  Teutch  ;  this  is  exactly 
to  my  taste.  Now,  give  me  the  coat  that  fits  me  the 
best ;  you  know  which  it  is.  Mind  you,  don't  forget 
to  sprinkle  my  handkerchief  with  the  perfume  which 
La  Guimard  sent  me  yesterday."  Another  look  at 
the  glass.  "  People  say,  Aubert  Dubayet,  that  I  am 
very  ugly.  But  none  but  myself  has  any  conception 
of  the  secret  power  of  my  ugliness.  There  is  magic 
in  it.  By-the-by,  Teutch,  I  am  sorry  that  I  omitted 
to  fence  with  you  this  morning.  It  follows  that  I 
don't  feel  as  well  as  usual.  But  I  am  always  so  much 
engaged  !  I  have  so  much  to  do  !  What  time  have 
I  for  recreation,  O  God  !  I  assure  you,  Dubayet,  that 
Teutch  is  the  best  swordsman  in  the  kingdom,  but 
he  is  no  match  for  me,  though.  Teutch,  give  me  a 
pair  of  gloves — one  of  that  set  which  I  won  from  my 
cousin,  the  Duchess  de  Guise.  Are  you  fond  of  swim 
ming,  Dubayet?" 

"  Not  in  the  least." 

"I  regret  it  for  your  sake.  It  is  so  invigorating! 
I  swim  better  than  Leander  ever  did.  Do  you  like 
riding  on  horseback?  " 

"  Very." 

"  You  are  right ;  it  is  a  delightful  exercise.  When 
I  was  a  captain  of  dragoons  in  Corsica,  I  was  reputed 
the  best  horseman  my  companions  had  ever  known — 
a  real  centaur ;  and  yet,  I  am  a  better  shot  than  I  am 
a  horseman.  I  snuff  a  candle  at  forty  paces.  Have 
you  been  taught  to  use  the  brush  of  the  painter, 
Dubayet?" 

"  Yes,  a  little  ;  I  have  drawn  landscapes." 

"  Well,  Sir,  I  have  missed  my  vocation.     I  should 


204  A  UBER  T  D  UBA 

have  been  a  painter.  I  might  have  equalled  Raphael. 
But  my  forte  is  music.  The  fact  is,  that  nature  has 
been  pleased  to  exhaust  her  gifts  on  me.  It  is  really 
singular — almost  unique.  The  world,  however,  is 
very  little  appreciative  in  its  taste,  and  very  unjust 
often  in  its  judgment.  For  instance,  people  talk  of 
nothing  else  than  my  eloquence,  as  if  I  had  no  other 
merit.  I  assure  you,  Dubayet,  that  if  I  am  anything 
at  all,  it  is  a  musician.  I  am  a  genius  in  that  line, 
and  yet  nobody  gives  me  credit  for  it.  I  know  but 
one  man  that  is  superior  to  me.  It  is  Tintin  Calan- 
dro,  the  chief  of  the  troop  of  musicians  in  the  serv 
ice  of  the  princess  de  Lamballe.  But  he  is  superhu 
man  ;  he  must  have  stolen  his  violin  from  heaven,  as 
Prometheus  stole  the  celestial  fire.  The  princess  de 
Lamballe  did  me  the  favor  to  lend  him  to  me  at  the 
last  concert  which  I  gave,  and  of  late  he  visits  me 
often,  and  we  play  together.  I  have  improved  won 
derfully  under  him.  By-the-by,  I  understand  that 
he  is  your  friend." 

"  From  boyhood  ;  he  is  a  college  chum." 
"  They  are  the  best  friends.  The  next  time  you 
come  to  see  me,  Dubayet,  I  must  find  leisure  to  de 
claim  for  you  some  of  the  finest  passages  in  Corneille 
and  Racine.  I  shall  show  you  hidden  beauties  in 
them  of  which  you  never  dreamed.  I  could  have 
been,  if  I  had  chosen,  the  greatest  actor  of  the  age. 
When  starving  in  Holland,  I  was  once  tempted  to  ap 
pear  on  the  stage.  Fie!  what  an  idea!  A  Riquetti, 
Count  de  Mirabeau,  a  stage  player!  My  gorge  rose 
at  it.  I  felt  instinctively  that  there  would  yet  be  an 
other  stage  for  me — the  one  on  which  I  figure  now." 
Pulling  out  his  watch,  "  But  I  almost  forget  myself ; 
**  is  time  to  go.  Teutch,  watch  those  fellows  who 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  2Q$ 

are  scribbling  for  me.  Don't  allow  them  to  play 
truant  when  I  am  gone.  Keep  them  at  work,  steady. 
Give  them  every  hour  a  glass  of  iced  champagne,  fol 
lowed  by  a  cup  of  hot  coffee ;  but  no  more,  mind 
you.  My  enemies,  Dubayet — and,  of  course,  I  have 
many,  for  I  could  not  have  blazed  like  a  comet  on  the 
horizon  of  Europe,  without  having  an  innumerable 
pack  of  dogs  to  bark  at  me — my  enemies,  I  say,  re 
proach  me  with  plagiarism,  and  maintain  that  I  am 
indebted  to  others,  whom  I  employ,  for  a  good  deal 
of  the  display  of  knowledge  which  I  make.  The 
fact  is,  that  I  have  my  masons  to  bring  stones  and 
mortar  for  the  edifices  I  intend  to  erect.  But  I, 
alone,  am  the  architect — the  Michael  Angelo.  Teutch, 
see  if  my  carriage  is  ready,  and  put  my  cloak  in  it." 

"  But  really,  count,"  said  Dubayet,  "  I  have  scru 
ples  about  accompanying  you.  I  have  not  been  in 
vited  by  Mr.  de  Talleyrand." 

"  What  of  that  ?  Do  you  not  come  with  me  ?  He 
will  be  delighted  to  see  you,  and  you  will  be  still 
more  delighted  to  know  him." 

"  I  confess  that  I  rather  dislike  the  bishop  of  Autun. 
A  priest  should  be  a  priest,  and  he  is  none." 

"  Better  be  no  priest  at  all  than  a  bad  one.  He 
will,  before  long,  have  himself  secularized,  I  have  no 
doubt.  He  was  born  for  the  world,  and  not  for  the 
cloister.  Depend  upon  it,  he  is  one  of  the  shrewdest 
and  strongest  minds  of  the  age.  He  will  make  his 
mark  on  it.  Dubayet,  it  is  advisable  that  you  should 
cultivate  him.  He  is  one  of  those  men  who  always 
contrive  to  be  at  the  apex  of  the  social  pyramid." 

"  He  has  the  reputation  of  being  cold  and  haughty 
— absolutely  repulsive." 

"  Pshaw  !     Mr.  de  Talleyrand  in  his  intimacy  is  very 


2o6  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

different  from  Mr.  de  Talleyrand  in  public.  It  is 
true  that  he  never  forgets  his  descent  from  one  of  the 
noblest  and  oldest  families  of  France.  His  ancestors 
were  sovereign  counts  by  the  grace  of  God,  and  reign 
ed  in  their  broad  domains  by  the  same  right  as  that 
by  which  the  Majesty  of  France  reigned  in  his  own 
kingdom.  He  retains,  therefore,  in  his  social  inter 
course,  the  dignity  which  befits  his  birth,  but  he  has 
also  the  high-toned  courtesy  which  is  its  inseparable 
appendage.  Now  as  to  his  character.  I  must  give 
you  an  insight  into  it.  I  have  no  doubt  that  it  must 
have  felt  the  influence  of  those  circumstances  which 
attended  him  from  early  youth.  He  was  the  eldest- 
born,  but,  as  he  was  club-footed,  his  father  compelled 
him  to  renounce  his  right  of  primogeniture  and  drove 
him  into  holy  orders,  for  which  he  had  no  vocation. 
He  could  have  been  an  ecclesiastic,  only  after  the 
fashion  of  the  cardinal  de  Retz,  who  had  adopted  a 
dagger  for  his  breviary.  Hated  and  ill-treated  by  his 
parents,  under  whose  roof  he  had  never  been  per 
mitted  to  sleep,  he  was,  in  his  infancy,  taciturn  and 
sombre,  and  has  grown  up  with  that  disposition. 
When  at  the  seminary,  he  used  to  live  apart,  and 
within  himself,  and  his  habitual  gloominess,  which 
rendered  him  unsociable,  had  given  him  the  reputa 
tion  of  being  haughty.  Condemned  to  be  a  church 
man,  he  has  neither  adopted  the  sentiments  nor  the 
conduct  that  would  have  become  his  profession.  He 
has  even  overstepped  those  broad  limits  which  the 
indulgence  of  a  lax  society  has  allowed  to  high  rank 
and  youth.  His  morality  is  not  clerical,  but  he  is  a 
strict  observer  of  proprieties,  and,  whatever  may  be 
his  habits  and  his  way  of  thinking,  no  one  knows  bet 
ter  than  he  what  may  be  spoken,  and  what  not !  He 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  2O/ 

may  perhaps  be  suspected  of  having  somewhat  the 
ambition  of  being  impressive  and  imposing,  by  assum 
ing  that  air  of  reserve  with  the  aid  of  which  some 
men  will  pass  themselves  off  as  being  deep.  But  he 
needs  no  artifice  of  the  kind,  for  he  is  by  nature  un- 
fathomably  deep.  At  first  sight,  he  will  generally  be 
thought  frigid.  When  among  those  with  whom  he  is 
not  familiar,  he  speaks  little  and  listens  with  much 
attention.  He  keeps  aloof,  as  it  were,  never  exposes 
himself,  and  puts  on  a  complete  armor  from  head  to 
foot.  He  has  not  apparently  the  social  characteris 
tics  of  the  French,  and  does  not  exhibit  their  nation 
al  vivacity,  familiarity,  indiscretion,  and  gaiety.  His 
language  is  sententious,  his  politeness  is  cold,  and  the 
expression  of  his  physiognomy  that  of  a  man  who 
examines  and  studies  those  in  whose  company  he 
finds  himself.  To  shake  off  or  punish  indiscretion, 
or  presumption,  or  to  guard  himself  against  any  ap 
proach  which  he  foresees  and  dislikes,  he  has  the  art 
of  dropping  a  short  sarcasm,  or  sentence,  impregnated 
with  prussic  acid.  It  is  instant  death.  So  much  for 
his  behavior  in  the  outside  world,  when  moving  in 
it." 

"You  frighten  me,"  said  Dubayet. 

"  There  is  no  reason  for  it.  Within  the  circle  of 
his  intimate  society,  and  remember  that  it  is  into  that 
circle  I  wish  to  introduce  you,  Talleyrand  transforms 
himself  into  another  being.  He  is  cordial  in  manner, 
affable,  and  free  in  language.  He  takes  a  keen  pleas 
ure  in  conversation,  in  which  he  likes  to  perform  an 
active  part,  and  which  he  frequently  prolongs  to  late 
hours  in  the  night.  On  those  occasions,  he  is  familiar, 
even  caressing,  extremely  and  minutely  attentive  to 
please.  He  wishes  to  be  amusing  and  amused  ;  he  is 


2o8  J  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

never  in  a  hurry  to  speak,  but,  when  he  opens  his  lips, 
it  is  to  give  way*  to  the  purest  atticism  of  language 
and  sentiments.  He  never  says  anything  which  is 
commonplace  or  insignificant.  There  is  depth  of 
thought,  piquancy  of  allusion,  or  the  sharpest  wit  al 
most  in  every  phrase  which  he  utters,  and  yet  so  deli 
cately  veiled,  as  to  be  appreciated  only  by  those  who 
are  accustomed  to  his  manner  and  to  the  refined  at 
mosphere  of  his  intellect.  But  enough,  let  us  de 
part  ;  come  and  see  if  this  portrait  is  correct.  I  have 
already  told  you  that  I  am  a  Raphael." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 

A   DINNER    PARTY — TALLEYRAND  AND    HIS    GUESTS. 

AUBERT  DUBAYET,  introduced  by  Mirabeau,  was 
received  by  Talleyrand  with  the  most  cordial  urban 
ity,  as  predicted  by  his  friend,  and,  in  a  few  minutes, 
was  made  to  feel  as  much  at  ease  as  if  he  had  long 
been  on  a  footing  of  intimacy  with  his  host.  The 
dinner  was  perfect,  and  most  of  the  guests  were  men 
whose  names  will  ever  live  in  the  pages  of  history. 
Talleyrand  was  particularly  attentive  to  his  new 
guest,  as  if  he  intended  to  make  him  understand  that 
he  was  at  once  admitted  into  the  privileged  circle  of 
those  who  had  free  access  to  his  house,  and  encourage 
him  to  future  intercourse.  He  asked  him  what  were 
the  news  from  America. 

"  None  of  very  great  importance,"  replied  Aubert 
Dubayet,  "  save  a  sharp  conflict  in  Congress  about  the 
creation  of  a  national  bank,  which  measure  was  urged 
upon  them,  as  a  matter  of  policy,  by  Alexander  Ham 
ilton  in  his  annual  treasury  report.  On  one  side,  it 
is  deemed  that  the  constitution  has  not  given  to  Con 
gress  the  power  of  incorporating  such  an  institution  ; 
on  the  other  side,  it  is  insisted  that  it  is  incident  to 
the  power  vested  in  Congress  for  raising  money.  The 
question,  after  being  argued  at  length  and  with  great 
vehemence,  was  solved  in  the  affirmative  by  both 
houses,  who  voted  in  favor  of  the  expediency  and 
constitutionality  of  the  measure." 

L'abbe  Maury.  "  I  consider  the  question  of  uncon- 

(209) 


210  A  UBERT  DUBA  YET. 

stitutionality,  on  that  occasion,  as  of  very  little  impor 
tance.  All  constitutions  are  baubles  given  to  the 
childish  multitude  to  amuse  and  cajole  them  into 
being  docile  under  the  guidance  of  their  demagogue 
leaders.  If  the  Congress  of  the  United  States  derive 
from  the  grant  of  the  power  to  coin  money,  that  of 
creating  a  paper  currency,  which  is  the  reverse  of 
money,  and  which  is  only  resorted  to  as  a  poor  sub 
stitute  when  no  money  can  be  coined,  what  will  they 
do,  in  the  course  of  time,  under  that  sweeping  clause 
which  says  that  they  shall  provide  for  the  general 
•welfare  ?  That  phrase,  short  as  it  is,  puts  me  in 
mind  of  that  small  magic  carpet  of  which  I  have  read 
in  some  Arabian  tale,  and  which,  when  laid  down, 
covered  only  one  foot  of  ground,  but  could  be  so 
stretched  as  to  envelope  the  whole  earth.  Under  that 
clause  in  the  instrument  to  which  I  refer,  and  under 
the  plea  of  necessity  which  is  unavoidably  connected 
with  it,  I  am  very  sure  it  will  be  found  out  before 
long,  that  the  boasted  constitution  of  the  model  re 
public  is  of  so  light  and  flexible  a  texture,  that  des 
potism  can  drive  through  it  in  a  coach  and  four  with 
absolute  ease.  But,  what  side  took  Washington  in 
that  conflict?  " 

Aubert  Dubayet.  "Washington  was  fully  alive  to 
the  magnitude  of  the  question,  and  to  the  interest 
felt  in  it  by  the  opposing  parties.  He  requested  each 
member  of  his  Cabinet  to  give  his  opinion  in  writing. 
The  Cabinet  was  divided.  Jefferson  and  Randolph 
denied  the  constitutionality  of  the  measure  ;  Hamil 
ton  and  Knox  maintained  it.  After  maturely  weigh 
ing  their  arguments  for  and  against,  Washington 
sanctioned  the  measure,  which  was  carried  into 
effect." 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET,  21 1 

Talleyrand.  "  I  regret  it ;  for  I  wish  I  could  have 
used  the  authority  of  Washington  to  oppose  it  to  Mr. 
de  Mirabeau,  who  intends  advocating  in  the  National 
Assembly  the  emission  of  assignats,  or  paper  money." 

Aubcrt  Dubayet.  "You  have  Jefferson  on  your 
side,  who,  perhaps,  will  be  of  greater  authority  with  a 
certain  portion  of  the  Assembly  than  Washington 
himself,  for  it  was  not  alone  on  constitutional  grounds 
that  Jefferson  was  opposed  to  the  creation  of  a  na 
tional  bank.  It  was  also  because  he  had  always 
avowed  himself  inimical  to  banks  as  introducing  a 
paper  instead  of  a  cash  system,  raising  up  a  moneyed 
aristocracy,  and  scattering  over  the  broad  face  of  the 
country  a  locust  host  of  greedy  stock-jobbers  and 
swindlers.  He  thinks  that  paper  money  may  have 
some  advantages,  but  that  its  abuses  are  inevitable, 
and  that,  by  breaking  up  the  measure  of  value,  it 
makes  a  lottery  of  all  private  property.  But  he  has 
other  reasons  which  may  be  more  urgent  with  him  in 
the  present  instance.*  He  considers  the  bank  as  a 
powerful  engine  intended  by  Hamilton  to  complete 
the  machinery  by  which  the  whole  action  of  the  Leg 
islature  is  to  be  placed  under  the  direction  of  the 
Treasury,  and  shaped  to  further  a  monarchical  system 
of  government.  He  affirms  that  Washington  is  un 
versed  in  financial  projects,  calculations,  and  budgets, 
and  that  his  approbation  of  this  measure  was  bottom 
ed  on  his  confidence  in  Hamilton,  of  whose  schemes 
he  does  not  see  the  drift.  The  fact  is,  that  Hamilton 
and  Jefferson,  to  use  Mr.  Jefferson's  own  words,  are 
pitted  in  the  Cabinet  like  two  cocks." 

Mirabeau.     "  Just  as  L'abbe  Maury  and  myself  are 


Irving's  "  Life  of  Washington,"  p.  80,  vol.  v. 


212  AUBERT  DUBA  YET. 

pitted  in  the  National  Assembly.  Monsieur  L'abbe,  I 
drink  to  your  good  health  with  this  exquisite  cham 
pagne.  May  you  be  a  cardinal  one  day  !  "  The  abbe. 
bowed  in  acknowledgment,  with  a  smile  which  seemed 
to  mean  that,  in  his  opinion,  such  an  event  was  far 
from  being  an  impossibility. 

"  In  the  meantime,"  continued  Aubert  Dubayet, 
"  two  political  parties  have  formed  themselves 
throughout  the  Union,  under  the  adverse  standards 
of  these  two  statesmen.  Both  have  the  good  of  their 
country  at  heart,  but  differ  as  to  the  policy  by  which 
it  is  to  be  secured." 

"  Just  like  Monsieur  le  Comte  de  Mirabeau  and  my 
self,"  said  L'abbe  Maury,  bowing  slightly  to  that  per 
sonage,  who  sat  opposite  to  him.  "  My  dear  col 
league,  permit  me  to  return  the  compliment  which 
you  have  paid  me.  I  drink  to  your  health  in  this 
ruby-looking  burgundy.  May  your  shadow  never 
grow  less ! " 

"  My  shadow  !  Monsieur  L'abbe"  replied  Mirabeau, 
laughing.  "  What  do  you  mean  ?  You  forget  that  I 
am  all  light.  But  pardon  us  this  interruption,  Du 
bayet.  Mr.  L'abbe  Maury  and  myself  will  never  cease 
to  be  boyish.  Pray,  go  on." 

Aubert  Dubayet.  "The  Federalists,  who  look  up 
to  Hamilton  as  their  model,  are  in  favor  of  strength 
ening  the  General  Government  so  as  to  give  it  weight 
and  dignity  abroad,  and  efficacy  at  home,  whilst 
guarding  it  against  the  encroachments  of  the  indi 
vidual  States  and  a  general  tendency  to  anarchy.  The 
other  party,  known  as  Republicans  or  Democrats, 
taking  Mr.  Jefferson's  view  of  affairs,  see  in  all  the 
measures  advocated  by  the  Federalists  an  intention 
to  convert  the  Federal  into  a  great  central  or  consol- 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  213 

idated  government,  preparatory  to  a  change  from  a 
republic  to  a  monarchy." 

Labbe  Sieyes  (emerging  from  a  sort  of  reverie,  and 
talking,  as  it  were,  to  himself  in  a  fit  of  abstraction). 
"  I  am  sorry  that  the  Americans  did  not  consult  me. 
I  should  have  greatly  improved  their  constitution,  and 
given  them  an  unsurpassed  declaration  of  the  rights 
of  man.  For,  political  economy  is  a  science  which  I 
have  literally  exhausted." 

Mirabeau  (nudging  with  his  elbow  Aubert  Dubayet, 
next  to  whom  he  was  seated).  "  Did  you  ever  hear 
the  like  of  it  ?  I  would  rap  him  for  it  on  the  knuckles, 
were  I  not  afraid  of  running  foul  of  his  implacable 
vanity.  Mine,  of  which  everybody  talks  so  much, 
and  which  is 'dwarfish  when  compared  to  the  gigantic 
one  of  this  man,  is  at  least  good-natured  and  sociable, 
whilst  that  of  the  abbe  is  as  ferocious  as  a  cannibal. 
Beware -of  him.  Habet  fcenum  in  cornu." 

Dupont  de  Nemours.  "  I  have  listened  with  great 
interest  to  what  has  been  said  on  the  United  States. 
As  we  are  advised  to  follow  their  example  in  their 
late  revolutionary  struggle,  and,  like  them,  to  issue 
paper  money  to  carry  us  through  our  own  revolution, 
I  beg  leave  to  ask  Mr.  Dubayet  if  he  knows  for  what 
sum,  in  continental  money,  I  could  procure  a  pair  of 
boots  in  New  York." 

A ubert  Dubayet.    "  Probably  fifty  thousand  dollars." 

Dupont  de  Nemours.  "  And  what  would  cost  such  a 
dinner  as  this?" 

Aubert  Dubayet.     "  About  five  millions,  I  presume." 

Dupont  de  Nemours.  "  What  do  you  say  of  that, 
Mr.  de  Mirabeau  ?  " 

Mirabeau.  "  I  say  that,  without  the  continental 
money  at  which  you  laugh,  the  Americans  could  not 


214  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

have  achieved  successfully  what  they  have  performed. 
That  it  should  have  become  worthless  is  a  great  evil, 
but  it  would  have  been  a  greater  one,  if  they  had 
failed  to  shake  off  the  yoke  of  Great  Britain,  and  to 
establish  their  present  government  on  the  basis  of 
the  broadest  liberty.  I  shall  give  in  full  my  reasons 
in  favor  of  the  contemplated  emission  of  assignats, 
when  the  question  is  discussed  in  the  National  As 
sembly.  You  will  then  have  the  opportunity  to 
refute  me." 

Dupont  de  Nemours.  "  I  will  attempt  it ;  in  the 
meantime,  I  predict  that  the  fate  of  the  continental 
paper  money  of  America  will  be  that  of  all  paper 
money  to  the  end  of  time,  and  that,  before  the  ex 
piration  of  this  century,  you  will  not  be  able,  Mr.  de 
Mirabeau,  to  buy  a  truffled  turkey  with  a  million  of 
livres  in  assignats" 

Barnave.  "  The  civilized  world  is  emancipating 
itself  from  the  thraldom  of  its  old  prejudices.  It  is 
getting  rejuvenated,  and  youth,  we  know,  must  sow 
its  wild  oats  and  get  into  debt.  The  human  mind 
now  teems  with  new  conceptions  of  hitherto  unheard 
of  improvements  in  political  economy,  in  the  science 
of  navigation  and  war,  in  the  mechanical  arts,  and  in 
everything  else.  Nations  have  not  the  pecuniary 
means  to  carry  into  execution  those  discoveries  which 
are  daily  crowding  upon  us  ;  for,  progress  is  a  God  who 
incessantly  vouchsafes  new  inspirations  to  his  wor 
shipers.  Hence  nations  must  borrow,  to  keep  pace 
with  one  another  and  to  meet  the  exigencies  of  their 
epoch ;  they  must  establish  credit  as  a  national  and 
fundamental  institution,  and  they  must  draw  on  pos 
terity,  who  must  and  will  honor  the  draft." 

Labbe  Maury.     "  Barnave   is  right  as  to  the  fact 


A  UBERT  DUB  A  YET.  2 1 5 

that  this  is  the  present  tendency  of  the  world.  Ere 
long,  every  nation,  no  doubt,  will  have  its  national 
debt  and  its  national  stocks,  with  their  inevitable  up 
and  down  movement,  thus  licensing  public  gambling 
and  spreading  universal  demoralization.  I  predict 
that,  before  the  expiration  of  the  nineteenth  century ,1 
all  civilized  nations  will  be  so  heavily  saddled  with 
their  increasing  debts,  that  they  will  be  horribly 
taxed  merely  to  pay  the  interests,  and  that,  in  the 
beginning  of  the  twentieth  century,  the  burden  will 
be  so  crushing,  that  there  will  be  a  general  repudia 
tion." 

Chamfort.  "  Why  not  ?  I  see  no  harm  in  it.  Im 
mense  material  improvements  will  be  the  results  of 
those  national  debts,  be  they  contracted  for  wars,  or 
for  peaceful  purposes.  When  repudiation  shall  take 
place,  the  burden  will  be  removed,  but  the  benefit 
will  remain.  It  will  be  all  gain  without  any  incum- 
brances  attached  to  it." 

La  Rochefoucauld.  "  You  horrify  me.  What  !  Vio 
late  the  national  faith  and  reduce  thousands  to  beg 
gary  ! " 

CJiamfort.  "  There  is  not  a  nation  in  the  world, 
Monsieur  le  due,  which  has  not  violated  more  than 
once,  in  every  century,  its  public  faith  pledged  in 
solemn  treaties.  Suppose  that  a  national  debt  is  so 
overwhelming  that  it  can  not  be  paid  either  in  the 
present  or  in  the  future,  because,  under  emergencies 
which  are  constantly  recurring,  it  is  forever  increas 
ing  in  bulk.  The  nation  is  perishing  under  the  fatal 
incubus;  excessive  taxation  destroys  its  agricultural, 
commercial,  and  industrial  resources ;  it  loses  its 
vigor,  its  rank  among  the  powers  of  the  earth,  and 
can  not  support  those  armies  which  are  necessary  to 


2 1 6  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

protect  it  against  the  ambition  of  its  neighbors.  Re 
pudiate,  I  say,  repudiate  at  once  and  without  hesita 
tion  ;  for  repudiation  must  come  at  last,  since  the 
debt  can  not  be  paid ;  have  the  moral  courage  which 
the  occasion  requires ;  cut  off  the  cancer  which 
threatens  life.  Salus  populi,  suprcma  lex ;  the  salva 
tion  of  the  commonwealth  is  the  supreme  law.  Do 
not  nations  go  to  war,  as  a  matter  of  necessity,  and 
sacrifice  often  one  million  of  men,  who  thus  are  lost  to 
productive  labor?  Why,  then,  hesitate  to  repudiate, 
in  case  also  of  absolute  necessity,  or  reduce  the  debt 
to  proportions  which  will  not  be  necessarily  destruc 
tive  to  the  debtor,  although  it  may  impoverish  the 
same  number  of  men  that  war  would  kill?  Those 
impoverished  men  would,  at  least,  remain  living  and 
active,  and  would  find  work  and  assistance  in  a  com 
munity  that  shall  have  become  suddenly  rich  and 
prosperous  by  being  freed  from  an  indebtedness  which 
it  was  impossible  to  remove  by  payment.  Surely  the 
sufferings  inflicted  by  repudiation  would  not  be  equal 
to  those  resulting  from  war.  Suppose  poor,  op 
pressed,  decrepit,  and  insolvent  Spain,  should,  by  one 
bold  stroke  of  the  pen,  expunge  her  national  debt, 
imposed  upon  her  by  rulers  who  went  beyond  the 
powers  constitutionally  delegated  to  them,  and  ruined 
the  generous  people  who  had  confided  in  them. 
There  would  be  a  loud  clamor,  senseless  cries  of 
shame — shame !  But,  after  all,  what  would  be  the 
practical  consequences?  Some  Spaniards  would  live 
less  comfortably,  but  none  would  perish  from  hunger, 
I'll  warrant ;  whilst  the  whole  nation  would  spring  up, 
with  the  vigor  of  a  giant,  from  the  earth  to  which 
she  has  been  crushed  down,  and  develop  with  un- 
trammeled  energy  the  wonderful  resources  with  which 


A  UBERT  DUB  A  YET.  2 1/ 

she  has  been  endowed  ;  and  should  her  example  not 
be  followed — why,  the  Spanish  genet,  with  no  other 
weight  than  that  of  its  light  saddle  and  nimble  rider, 
would  soon  distance  in  the  career  of  prosperity  the 
heavy-loaded  pack-horses  of  France,  England,  Italy, 
and  Germany,  carrying  with  panting  breath  the  grind 
ing  mill-stones  accumulated  on  their  cracked  backs 
by  centuries  of  misrule  and  imbecility,  or  savage  lust 
and  selfish  ambition.  As  to  the  foreign  creditors, 
they  could  not  complain,  when  put  on  the  same  foot 
ing  with  the  natives." 

La  Rochefoucauld.  "And  the  immorality  of  the 
act  ?  " 

Chamfort.  "  There  would  be  no  immorality  in  it. 
Why  should  not  a  nation  go  honestly  into  bank 
ruptcy,  like  a  private  individual,  when  her  resources 
are  really  and  truly  exhausted  ?  If,  in  such  circum 
stances,  a  man  is  not  disgraced,  why  should  a  nation?" 

La  Rochefoucauld.  "  Repudiation  or  bankruptcy 
would  immediately  destroy  public  credit,  which  is 
the  life  of  a  nation." 

Chamfort.  "  It  might  increase  it,  because  the  re 
sources  of  the  State  to  pay  future  debts  would  be 
greater,  and  capitalists,  who  are  ever  so  anxious  to 
loan  money  securely  and  to  own  stocks,  would  feel 
that  such  another  act  of  bankruptcy  would  not  be 
probable,  and  would  not  become  an  absolute  necessity 
within  several  centuries.  What  mortal  ken  would 
look  through  such  a  long  vista  of  years,  to  antici 
pate  consequences  so  remote?" 

Dupont  de  Nemours.    "  I  beg  leave,  Monsieur  le  due, 

to   deny,  with  due  deference  to  your  opinion,  that 

public  credit  is  the  life  of  a  nation.     Who  ever  heard 

of  the  national  loans  of  Rome,  and  yet  Rome  had 

10 


2i8  AUBERT  DUBAYET. 

life  in  her,  I  presume?  Who  ever  heard  of  the 
Babylonian,  Assyrian,  or  Egyptian  loans  being  huck 
stered  about  like  crockery  ware?  Did  those  nations 
who  built  magnificent  capitals  whose  population  ex 
ceeded  that  of  ours,  issue  bonds  on  papyrus,  or  or 
leather,  or  on  wood,  or  brass  tablets,  or  on  any  othci 
durable  materials,  to  carry  on  their  eternal  wars,  01 
to  erect  those  stupendous  monuments  which  excite 
our  wonder  and  admiration  ?  Were  their  stocks 
quoted  at  the  exchange-rooms  of  Nineveh,  Babylon 
Alexandria,  and  Rome,  rising  and  falling  according 
to  the  thermometer  of  circumstances?  Until  recenl 
times,  nations  existed  without  manifesting  that  ex 
istence  by  the  creation  of  paper  pyramids  of  nationa 
bonds  and  national  rag  currency.  We  have  lately 
witnessed  the  mighty  struggle  of  little  Prussia,  with 
a  population  of  five  millions,  against  the  combined 
forces  of  France,  Austria,  and  Russia.  She  came  out 
victorious  without  having  had  recourse  to  a  loan,  and 
therefore  without  a  debt.  Why  can  not  we  do  like 
her,  and  like  all  the  nations  of  antiquity?  " 

Mirabeau.  "  Because  the  complexion  and  face  oi 
things  have  changed.  Every  age  has  its  own  peculiai 
spirit  and  its  own  peculiar  destiny.  The  crusaders 
fitted  the  times  they  lived  in,  and  Europe  has  evei 
since  passed  through  inevitable  transformations.  Nc 
banker,  for  instance,  could  have  been  a  minister  undei 
Louis  XIV.  Now,  a  banker,  Mr.  de  Necker,  is  a 
minister  under  Louis  XVI.,  and  the  idol  of  the  peo 
ple.  Be  it  for  good  or  for  evil,  this  is  the  age  ol 
bankers,  speculators,  and  stock-jobbers,  of  public  credit 
and  national  debt.  They  will  have  their  phase  ol 
allotted  existence,  and  will  pass  away  like  everything 
else.  But,  in  the  meantime,  public  credit  will  build 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  219 

cities,  cover  the  seas  with  fleets,  carry  commerce  and 
civilization  to  the  extremities  of  the  earth,  and  stim 
ulate  the  mind  of  man  into  inventions  and  into  the 
execution  of  works,  before  which  those  of  past  ages 
,vill  be  insignificant." 

Talleyrand.  "  Mr.  de  Mirabeau  takes  a  correct  view 
of  what  is  to  happen.  I  have  no  doubt,  from  the 
signs  of  the  times,  that  a  sudden  rage  for  material 
improvements  will  become  epidemic,  that  the  acqui 
sition  of  wealth  will  be  the  ruling  passion  of  the  age, 
and  that  every  one  in  Christendom  will  be  eager  to 
provide  himself  with  an  easy  rocking-chair.  I  have 
no  doubt  that  the  day  will  come  when,  in  the  pursuit 
of  every  sort  of  wild  schemes,  generated  by  cupidity, 
every  nation,  every  capital,  every  city,  town,  village, 
or  corporation,  as  well  as  individuals,  will  have  their 
irredeemable  bonds,  or  promissory  notes,  floating 
on  every  sea  in  the  tempest-torn  boat  of  public 
credit." 

L'abbe.  Maury.  "  What  will  be  the  end  of  this  beau 
tiful  state  of  things  ?  " 

Talleyrand.     "  A  crash." 

Mirabeau.  "  Well,  let  it  be  a  crash.  Who  is  afraid 
of  a  crash  ?  Was  not  the  original  fall  of  man  a  crash  ? 
Was  not  the  deluge  a  crash?  Was  not  the  destruc 
tion  of  the  Roman  empire  a  crash  ?  The  records  of 
mankind  are  but  the  history  of  crashes.  And  yet, 
notwithstanding  all  those  crashes,  the  world  still  moves 
on,  affording  more  or  less  comfort  to  those  who  live 
in  it." 

Chamfort  (with  that  bland  intonation  of  voice 
which  he  always  affected,  when  he  intended  to  be 
otherwise  than  deferential) :  "  You  said,  Mr.  de  Mira 
beau,  that  what  you  call  the  age  of  bankers,  stock- 


22O  *  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

jobbers,  and  public  credit,  would   pass  away.     Have 
you  any  idea  of  what  will  succeed  it  ?  " 

Mirabeau.  "  Of  course  I  have.  Was  I  ever  with 
out  an  idea  on  anything?  I  think  that  the  next 
mania  will  be  about  the  abolition  of  marriage,  of  pub 
lic  credit,  of  national  and  private  indebtedness,  the 
amalgamation  of  all  races,  a  chemical  mixture  of  all 
religions,  the  promulgation  of  the  doctrine  of  equal 
ity  and  fraternity,  not  only  among  men,  but  also  be 
tween  them  and  the  lower  animals  ;  the  creation  of 
liberty — mutual — insurance  companies  among  nations, 
and  the  emancipation  of  women,  who  will  wear 
breeches  and  enjoy  all  the  political,  social,  and  other 
rights  of  man,  now  known,  or  to  be  discovered  in  the 
future.  The  abolition  of  marriage  must  certainly 
suit  you,  Mr.  Chamfort,  for  you  are  always  preaching 
against  it ;  you  best  know  why  ;  and  if  perchance  you 
should  object  to  a  woman  being  a  politician,  you 
might  be  glad  to  accept  her  as  a  physician.  It  is  said, 
you  know,  that  the  lance  of  Achilles  could  cure  the 
wounds  which  it  inflicted." 

This  was  a  bitter  retort ;  for  Mirabeau  was  irritated 
at  the  familiar  tone  of  levity  with  which  he  had  been 
addressed.  As  to  Chamfort,  he  became  very  pale  and 
bit  his  lips.  He  had  the  misfortune  of  being  a  bas 
tard,  and  was  reported  to  have  one  of  those  shameful 
and  incurable  diseases  which  are  the  result  of  dissolute 
ness.  Mirabeau's  sarcastic  allusions  were  understood 
by  all,  and  a  general  titter,  which  could  hardly  be 
suppressed,  increased  the  uncomfortable  feelings  of 
Chamfort.  Fortunately,  the  archbishop  of  Aix,  \\ho 
was  extremely  dull,  and  who  had  been  struck  with 
the  words,  "a  chemical  mixture  of  all  religions,"  said 
in  a  doleful  tone :  "  I  should  not  be  astonished  at  the 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  22 1 

sacrilegious  attempt.  For,  what  are  we  not  coming 
to  in  these  days  of  portentous  changes  ?  Has  not  an 
attack  been  already  made  in  the  National  Assembly 
against  the  collection  of  the  tithe  appropriated  for 
the  support  of  the  clergy  ? — the  tithe  ! — that  voluntary 
offering  of  the  piety  of  the  faithful." 

"  True,  the  tithe  !  "  said  the  Duke  de  la  Rochefau- 
cauld,  with  that  air  of  simplicity  and  modesty  which 
was  habitual  to  him,  and  which  gave  more  piquancy 
to  his  remarks,  "the  tithe! — that  voluntary  offering 
of  the  piety  of  the  faithful,  about  the  payment  of 
which  there  are  forty  thousand  lawsuits  in  France  ! " 

This  time  there  was  a  frank  and  unrestrained  ex 
pression  of  hilarity,  but  L'abbe  Maury  came  to  the 
rescue  of  the  archbishop.  "  If  we  were  only  spoliated," 
he  said,  "  of  our  prescriptive  and  time-honored  right 
to  tithes,  it  would  be  comparatively  nothing,  for  we 
are  threatened  with  being  robbed  even  of  our  landed 
possessions,  which  were  royal  or  private  donations, 
or  the  fruits  of  our  industry  and  economy,  and  to 
which  every  century,  as  it  passed,  has  affixed  its 
sacred  seal  with  the  sanction  of  religion  and  of  the 
State."  • 

"  There  can  be  nothing  sacred  in  what  is  oppres 
sive,"  replied  Mirabeau.  "  If  this  be  true,  it  justifies 
the  abolition  of  tithes,  for  they  are  the  most  oppres 
sive  of  burdens.  For  instance,  suppose  a  piece  of 
ground  produces  twelve  sacks  of  corn  to  a  peasant. 
If  you  deduct  the  rent,  the  cost  of  cultivation,  the 
wear  and  tear  of  implements,  etc.,  there  remains  one- 
half,  to  wit :  six  sacks,  out  of  which  three  sacks  are 
to  be  taken  to  meet  what  is  due  to  the  king  and  other 
official  claimants.  Thus  the  twelve  sacks  are  reduced 
to  three.  Is  that  all  ?  No.  Now  comes  the  hand  of 


222  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

the  priest,  who,  in  the  name  of  God,  takes  one  sack, 
which  represents,  after  having  magnanimously  thrown 
out  a  fraction,  the  tenth  part  of  the  gross  produce ; 
so  that,  out  of  the  twelve  sacks  of  corn  which  the 
laborer  has  extracted  from  the  bowels  of  the  earth  by 
the  sweat  of  his  brow,  he  retains  two  for  his  subsist- 
ence  and  that  of  his  family ;  and  this  is  what  is  called 
the  legitimate  property  of  the  clergy !  I  maintain 
that,  far  from  being  property,  it  does  not  amount 
even  to  possession.  The  tithe  is  merely  a  contribu 
tion,  a  tax  for  the  support  of  public  worship — which 
tax  can  be  modified,  changed,  or  abolished  at  will  by 
the  legislative  power.  It  is  a  subsidy,  a  salary  given 
by  the  nation  to  the  professors  of  moral  and  religious 
instruction." 

Labbz  Maury.  "  Bravo !  bravo  !  This  is  worthy  of 
the  new  era  into  which  we  are  entering.  I  like  the 
novelty  of  these  expressions.  Priests  are  no  longer 
the  apostles  of  Christ,  the  ministers  of  God,  but  the 
professors  of  moral  and  religious  instruction  for  a 
stipulated  salary.  Go  on,  Mr.  de  Mirabeau ;  go  on." 

Archbishop  of  Aix.  "  For  my  part,  I  tell  him  not 
to  go  on.  I  protest  against  this  word  salary,  applied 
to  the  Church— to  the  spouse  of  Christ." 

Mirabeau.  "  I  see,  Monseigneur,  that  this  word, 
salary,  wounds  your  sense  of  sacerdotal  dignity.  I  am 
sorry  for  it.  But  it  is  time,  in  the  face  of  a  revolution 
which  has  produced  so  many  just  and  generous  senti 
ments,  and  expelled  forever  so  many  gothic  preju 
dices,  that  the  pretensions  of  ignorant  pride  should  be 
set  aside.  I  know  for  man  in  society  but  three  modes 
of  existence.  He  must  be  a  beggar,  a  thief,  or  a  work- 
man  for  a  salary." 

Chamfort.    "  What  becomes  of  the  proprietor?     If 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  223 

he  is  neither  a  beggar,  nor  a  thief,  he  must  be  ranked, 
I  suppose,  among  those  who  work  for  a  salary,  or 
wages." 

Mirabeau.  "To  be  sure.  The  proprietor  must  be 
classed  among  those  who  receive  a  salary.  It  is  the 
law,  and  the  law  alone,  which  establishes  and  main 
tains  property.  The  proprietor  is  a  mere  agent,  or  ad 
ministrator,  appointed  or  tolerated  for  the  benefit  of 
the  social  body.  He  pays,  or  must  be  made  to  pay, 
to  the  members  of  the  community  to  which  he  belongs, 
a  large  proportion  of  the  revenue  of  the  property 
which  that  community  allows  him  to  possess,  and  in 
the  possession  of  which  it  protects  him.  He  pays  it  in 
the  shape  of  expenses  of  all  sorts  for  his  living,  for  the 
gratification  of  his  tastes  or  appetites,  and  in  taxes. 
What  remains  is  his  salary  for  his  taking  care,  in  a 
special  manner,  of  what,  for  the  public  good,  has  been 
intrusted  to  his  administration,  and  belongs,  after  all, 
to  the  whole  community.  He  has  only  been  permit 
ted  to  acquire  it,  and  apparently  to  appropriate  it  to 
himself  out  of  the  common  fund,  as  a  sort  of  reward 
or  social  pre-eminence,  granted  to  him  for  his  labor, 
or  the  labor  of  the  ancestors  from  whom  he  inherits 
it,  and  with  a  view  to  produce  an  emulation  of  indus 
try.  '  I  know  that  this  does  not  agree  with  the  vul 
garly  acknowledged  definition  of  property,  but  it  does 
not  follow  that  it  is  not  the  correct  one,  or  the  one,  at 
least,  which  is  in  conformity  with  the  enlarged  views 
of  the  present  day." 

Archbishop  of  Aix.  "Count,  you  must  be  joking. 
I  would  call  this  the  sophistry  of  the  devil,  gentlemen, 
if  it  did  not  come  out  of  the  polite  and  Christian  lips 
of  Mr.  de  Mirabeau,  who,  I  know,  does  not  profess  to 
be  a  heathen." 


224  A  UBER  T  D UBA  YE T- 

L'abbe  Maury.  "  We  must  not  be  angry,  Monscig- 
neur.  I  assure  you  that  this  doctrine  is  not  of  Mr.  de 
Mirabeau,  who  can  not  claim,  on  this  occasion,  the 
rights  of  authorship  or  originality.  It  is  the  ingenious 
invention  of  that  new-fangled  philosophy  which  is  em 
bodied  in  the  '  Social  Contract '  of  Jean  Jacques  Rous 
seau,  who,  notwithstanding  the  title  of  his  book,  is  the 
apostle  of  social  disorganization.  But  you  will  permit 
the  benighted  like  me,  Mr.  de  Mirabeau,  to  cling  to 
the  Scriptural  doctrine.  It  is  not  by  any  human  law, 
nor  by  any  social  contract,  nor  by  any  assent  of  his 
fellow-beings,  that  man  holds  his  title  to  property. 
He  derives  it  from  God  himself.  In  the  beginning  of 
the  world,  the  Creator  gave  to  man  dominion  over  the 
earth,  over  the  fish  of  the  sea,  and  the  fowls  of  the  air, 
and  over  every  living  thing.  This  is  the  foundation 
of  man's  property  in  the  earth  and  in  all  its  produc 
tions.  Prior  occupancy  of  the  land  which  he  cleared, 
and  of  the  wild  animals  which  he  subjugated,  gave  to 
the  first  possessor  the  first  property.  To  his  own 
energy  and  industry  he  was  indebted,  under  God,  for 
it,  and  not  to  any  imaginary  contract  with  his  fellow- 
men.  The  proprietor  is  not  the  steward  of  the  State, 
but  the  steward  of  God.  The  State  has  no  right  to 
take  a  cent  from  his  hard  earnings,  or  from  the  accu 
mulated  hoard  of  his  ancestors,  to  distribute  it  to  the 
needy,  and  probably  to  the  vicious.  When  the  State 
says  to  me :  4  Give  half  of  your  cloak  to  the  poor,  as 
the  payment  of  a  legitimate  debt,'  I  rebel  against 
the  order,  as  the  dictate  of  injustice  and  tyranny.  But 
when  God  says :  '  Give  in  charity  half  of  what  you 
possess,  not  because  it  is  not  your  own,  but  because 
it  is,'  I  obey  cheerfully  the  mandate  of  justice  and 
love,  conveyed  to  me  in  the  language  of  truth." 


A  UBER T  D UBA  YET.  22$ 

Talleyrand.  "  I  have  no  doubt  that  the  National 
Assembly  will  not  only  abolish  tithes,  but  will  even 
dispossess  the  clergy  of  all  the  property  which  they 
hold  as  religious  corporations.  I  must  confess  that 
the  clergy  does  not  seem  to  me  to  be  a  proprietor 
after  the  fashion  of  other  proprietors,  because  the 
property  which  they  possess  has  not  been  given  to 
them  personally,  and  to  subserve  their  private  interests, 
but  has  been  assigned  to  them  as  a  body,  or  as  the 
members  of  a  body,  to  enable  them  to  perform  cer 
tain  functions.  What  was  the  object  of  the  donors? 
To  provide  for  the  poor,  for  the  building  and  repair 
ing  of  temples,  hospitals,  institutions  of  charity,  and 
of  public  education,  and  for  the  expenses  incidental 
to  the  keeping  up  of  the  religious  worship  approved 
by  the  nation.  The  clergy  were  bound  to  reserve  for 
their  personal  wants  only  a  small  portion  of  those 
revenues.  They  were  administrators  or  trustees.  If 
the  State  assumes,  as  it  is  determined  to  do  for  the 
greater  benefit  of  the  nation,  all  the  obligations  im 
posed  upon  the  clergy  as  conditions  on  which  they 
hold  the  property  given  to  them,  and  provides  for 
their  subsistence,  surely  it  has  the  right  to  dispose  of 
that  property.  The  intentions  of  the  donors  have  been 
fulfilled,  and  the  clergy  have  no  cause  to  complain.  It 
can  not  be  denied  that  corporations  can  only  exist  by 
the  creation  or  permission  of  the  State.  If  it  can  cre 
ate,  it  can  destroy  its  own  work.  If  it  can  permit,  it 
can  prohibit.  Therefore  it  can  abolish  at  will  all  cor 
porations  on  giving  indemnities  when  just  and  neces 
sary.  This  is  the  innate  right  of  sovereignty.  With 
out  it,  there  would  be  no  sovereignty.  All  that  is  with 
in  its  sphere  is  subject  to  its  action.  There  can  be 
permitted  to  be  no  antagonism  of  existence  within 
10* 


226  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

the  circle  of  the  national  diadem — no  imperium  in  im- 
pcrio.  It  is  true  that  the  State  could  not  abolish  the 
whole  clergy,  because  there  can  be  no  religion  with 
out  a  clergy,  and  a  civilized  State  can  no  more  exist 
without  religion  than  the  body  without  the  soul.  But, 
undoubtedly,  the  State  can  abolish,  when  necessary 
to  its  welfare,  certain  particular  aggregations  of  the 
clergy  which  may,  as  corporations,  have  become  too 
numerous  and  cumbersome — which  may  have  out 
lived  the  purposes  for  which  they  were  formed — and 
which  may  no  longer  be  in  harmony  with  the  wants 
and  ideas  of  the  age.  Governments  have  more  than 
once  destroyed  religious  orders,  with  the  consent  of 
the  Pope.  I  need  not  recite  all  the  instances  of  it  re 
lated  in  history,  and  which  will  present  themselves 
to  your  minds.  That  of  the  Jesuits,  in  the  present 
century,  is  in  point.  Besides,  it  must  be  admitted 
that  it  is  an  intolerable  evil,  to  have  probably  one- 
third  of  France  held  in  mortmain  by  those  innumera 
ble  monasteries  and  other  religious  corporations  that 
have  grown  hoary  and  infirm  on  our  soil,  and  are  now 
of  no  more  public  utility  than  our  old  feudal  towers. 
They  must  and  will  be  struck  down,  on  granting  an 
indemnity  which  will  be  sufficiently  ample  to  provide 
for  their  individual  members.  Their  property  must 
be  thrown  back  into  the  general  circulation  from 
which  it  has  been  withdrawn.  It  will  be  bought 
with  the  paper  currency  issued  by  the  State,  and  will 
thus  contribute  to  its  redemption.  The  national  credit 
will  be  firmly  established,  and  France  saved  from  the 
awful  calamity  of  bankruptcy.  Surely  the  clergy  are 
too  patriotic  not  to  make  as  many  voluntary  sacrifices 
as  the  nobility,  to  save  their  country  from  perdition." 
Labb't  Maury.  "  If  in  the  National  Assembly  the 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


227 


absolute  ruin  of  the  secular  and  regular  clergy  has  al 
ready  been  determined  upon,  if  we  have  to  struggle 
against  the  irresistible  force  of  a  fixed  resolution, 
there  is  nothing  left  to  us  but  resignation  and  silence. 
But  if  we  are  to  be  attacked  only  with  the  force  of 
logic  and  the  evidence  of  facts,  we  shall  meet  the 
contest  with  confidence.  I  am  afraid,  however,  that 
the  war  undertaken  against  the  clergy  is  a  mere  prel 
ude  to  the  one  which  is  meditated  against  religion, 
forgetful,  as  all  modern  reformers  are,  that  all  the  leg 
islators  who  have  preceded  us,  from  the  remotest  an 
tiquity  to  the  present  day,  have  uniformly  recognized 
this  unquestionable  truth — that  religion  is  the  only 
basis  on  which  society  can  be  seated,  because  it  is  the 
only  thing  that  can  give  morality  to  a  people ;  be 
cause,  according  to  the  sound  sentiments  of  a  heathen 
philosopher  and  orator,  the  first  duty  of  man  on  his 
becoming  a  partner  in  any  human  society,  is  to  be  re 
ligious.  I  hope  that  Cicero  will  be  admitted  here  as 
an  authority  by  my  adversaries;  for  he  was  not  a 
bigoted  Catholic  priest.  But,  before  deciding  if  the 
clergy  are  to  be  stripped  of  all  their  possessions,  is  it 
not  better  to  decide  first,  whether  we  are  to  have  any 
clergy  at  all ;  and  if  we  are  to  have  a  clergy,  before 
determining  whether  that  clergy  shall  be  established 
and  regulated  by  the  Church,  or  by  the  assumed 
authority  of  the  civil  power,  would  it  not  be  better 
to  ascertain  whether  we  are  to  have  any  religion  at 
all  ?  From  the  signs  of  the  times  I  am  inclined  to 
believe  that  it  is  not  impossible  but  what  the  existence 
of  the  clergy  and  of  God  himself  will  be  simultaneously 
abolished  by  a  national  decree.  God  must  be  looked 
upon  by  the  sages  of  the  day  as  a  great  obstacle  to 
those  sublime  reforms  which  are  contemplated  by 


228  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

human  reason,  and  a  stumbling-block  in  the  way  of 
the  gradual  march  of  our  race  toward  perfection. 
What  do  I  say?  A  march  toward  perfection!  No. 
I  take  back  my  words,  and  beg  pardon.  We  possess 
innate  perfection  ;  it  is  in  the  marrow  of  our  bones, 
and,  to  be  developed,  it  awaits  only  the  fiat  of  the  phi 
losophy,  benevolence,  and  omnipotence  of  matter. 
This  question  would,  no  doubt,  be  much  simplified 
were  God  to  be  banished  from  the  universe  by  a  bold 
revolutionary  stroke  of  the  pen." 

Mirabeau.  "  Allow  me,  Monsieur  Labbe,  to  point 
out  to  you  that  you  are  committing  grave  errors  in 
chronology.  There  is  no  Satan  here  attempting  to 
dethrone  God  in  Heaven.  We  are  in  France,  dealing 
with  men,  and  not  with  angels  and  archangels;  with 
the  clergy,  and  not  religion  ;  with  their  temporal  pos 
sessions,  and  not  with  their  jurisdiction  over  souls 
and  spiritual  things." 

Labbe,  Maury.  "  Very  well,  retournons  a  nos  mou- 
tons.  Let  us  return  to  our  sheep,  which  are  to  be 
fleeced  without  mercy.  The  main  question  then  is, 
shall  one  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  Frenchmen  who 
constitute  the  clergy,  and  on  whom  more  than  one 
million  of  persons  are  directly  or  indirectly  depend 
ent,  be  deprived  of  their  possessions  for  what  is 
called  the  patriotic  regeneration  of  their  country? 
Have  I  stated  the  question  fairly,  Mr.  de  Mirabeau? 
You  nod  assent.  What  is  the  meaning  of  that  assent  ? 
It  means  that  Peter  shall  be  stripped  naked  to  clothe 
Paul,  that  the  clergy  shall  be  spoliated,  to  facilitate 
the  stock-jobbing  operations  of  swindling  Jews.  It 
is  substituting  highway  robbery  for  bankruptcy.  What 
is  the  bankruptcy  of  national  credit,  compared  with 
the  bankruptcy  of  national  honor  and  national  jus- 


A  UBER T  D  UBA  YE T.  229 

tice  ?  What  would  bethought  of  a  man  who,  to  pay 
his  debts,  should  waylay  travelers  on  the  public 
road?" 

Labbe  Sieyes.  "  Such  are  the  French.  They  wish 
to  be  free,  and  they  do  not  know  how  to  be  just." 

Labbe  Manry.  "  It  is  not  a  little  curious  that  the 
question  of  the  suppression  of  monasteries  and  other 
religious  institutions  should  have  been  made  a  finan 
cial  one.  Our  holy  altars  are  to  be  converted  into 
counters,  where  the  sellers  of  doves  and  money 
changers,  are  to  discount  bonds  bearing  mortgage  on 
church  property.  The  value  of  stocks  is  to  be  the 
sole  criterion  of  national  prosperity,  and  the  wealth 
of  France  is  hereafter  to  lie  in  the  portfolios  of  Jews, 
and  not  in  her  fertile  soil  ploughed  by  patient  and 
honest  labor.  Surely,  this  can  not  be  the  true  remedy 
for  our  ailments.  On  the  contrary,  it  is  poison  and 
death.  My  opinion  is,  that,  instead  of  this  spend 
thrift  borrowing  and  of  this  consecration  of  robbery 
under  the  great  national  seal,  we  must  develop  our 
infinite  resources  by  a  wise  and  economical  adminis 
tration.  We  must  renounce  our  luxurious  habits  ;  we 
must  work,  and  not  inscribe  the  name  of  France  in 
Shylock's  book.  Instead  of  that,  what  is  proposed  ? 
To  pay  our  outstanding  debts,  we  are  told  to  issue 
State  bonds,  bearing  interest.  Well,  how  shall  we 
provide  for  the  payment  of  that  new  debt  and  its  in 
terests  ?  By  issuing  other  bonds  !  But  will  anybody 
have  faith  in  those  ever-increasing  bonds,  and  will 
they  be  negotiated?  Perhaps  not.  Therefore,  let 
the  clergy  be  robbed  of  their  property,  and  let  that 
property  be  the  guarantee  of  the  payment  of  the  na 
tional  loan." 

La  Rochefoucauld.     "  There  may  be  some  abuses, 


230  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

defects,  and  perhaps  injustice  to  some  extent,  in  the 
plan  proposed  to  avoid  the  horrible  calamity  of  na 
tional  bankruptcy.  But  what  plan  could  be  free  from 
similar  objections?  For  my  part,  I  do  not  see  how, 
with  the  deficit  which  exists  in  the  treasury,  the  Gov 
ernment  can  contrive  to  live,  and  can  provide  for  its 
present  and  future  necessities,  without  finding  out 
the  means  of  establishing  a  solid  public  credit,  which, 
after  all,  is  the  only  bank  on  which  we  can  draw." 

L'abbe  Maitry.  "  One  would  suppose  that  public 
credit,  of  which  we  hear  so  much,  is  the  true  treasure 
and  the  only  salvation  of  the  State.  I  confess  that, 
in  consequence  of  the  past  follies  of  France,  we  need 
credit,  temporarily,  to  scramble  our  way  up,  out  of 
the  abyss  into  which  we  are  gradually  sinking.  But, 
whenever  the  Government  shall  be  administered  with 
wisdom,  public  credit  will  no  longer  be  what  it  now 
is  :  a  necessary  evil,  a  huge  calamity,  and  the  most 
terrible  infliction  which  has  ever  befallen  the  nations 
of  the  earth.  I  lay  at  its  door  all  our  misfortunes;  it 
has  nourished  the  extravagant  prodigalities  of  our 
kings,  by  which  all  our  sources  of  wealth  have  been 
dried  up ;  it  has  facilitated  those  wars  which,  very 
often,  were  undertaken  for  futile  or  criminal  motives; 
it  has  equipped  and  fed  those  innumerable  armies 
that  have  made  war  more  fatal  and  more  ruinous 
than  it  would  otherwise  have  been — nay,  it  has  per 
petuated  its  image  and  its  expenses  in  the  midst  of 
peace,  by  transforming  Europe  into  a  vast  armed 
camp,  always  ready  for  action.  It  is  credit  which  has 
engendered  that  long  and  complicated  series  of  debts 
and  taxes  of  all  sorts  under  which  we  perish ;  it  is 
credit  which  devours  in  anticipation  the  bread  of 
future  generations.  When  Francis  I.  issued  for  the 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  23! 

first  time,  in  1521,  a  loan  guaranteed  by  the  city  of 
Paris,  he  inaugurated  a  new  era  of  calamities  for  Eu 
rope,  by  giving  an  example  that  was  sure  to  be  fol 
lowed  by  his  neighbors.  He  laid  down  the  first  stone 
of  that  monstrous  edifice  which,  now  tottering  to  its 
very  foundations,  threatens  us  with  being  crushed 
under  its  ruins.  The  richest  kingdom  on  earth  has 
not  been  able  to  stand  up  more  than  two  centuries 
and  a  half  under  that  all-consuming  system  of  con 
tinual  borrowing,  without  even  providing  for  the 
punctual  payment  of  interests,  except  with  addition 
al  supplies  of  borrowed  money.  The  capital  of  pre 
vious  loans  has  been  reimbursed  only  by  the  expe 
dient  of  larger  ones.  Borrowing  has  been  made  the 
most  ingenious  of  arts,  and  the  most  skillful  devices 
have  been  imagined  to  fill  the  craving  maw  of  an  ever 
empty  exchequer.  It  has  led  us  to  bankruptcy,  or  to 
the  spoliation  of  one  portion  of  the  nation  by  the 
other." 

Chamfort  (emptying  his  glass).  "Well,  let  us 
hope  that  good  will  come  out  of  evil." 

Labbe  Maury.  "  No,  Sir,  such  a  hope  can  not  be 
reasonably  entertained.  I  predict  that  the  confisca 
tion  of  the  possessions  of  the  clergy  will  give  no  real 
relief  to  the  commonwealth.  Their  property  will  be 
squandered  ;  for  robbers  are  bad  administrators  ;  and 
the  embarrassments  of  the  treasury  will  remain  what 
they  are.  Such  a  confiscation  would  be  worse  than 
an  odious  crime ;  it  would  be  a  worthless  and  barren 
one ;  whilst  I  maintain  that,  as  a  matter  of  policy,  a 
territorial  donation  for  the  support  of  the  clergy  is  a 
precious  institution  for  the  State.  Public  worship 
would  be  endangered  and  even  annihilated,  if  it  de 
pended  on  a  degrading  and  uncertain  salary.  An  in- 


232  -rf UBERT  DUBA  YET. 

fidel  and  rapacious  government  would  soon  be  on  the 
lookout  for  the  cheapest  form  of  worship,  and  it  would 
be  speedily  discovered  that  it  is  still  cheaper  to  have  no 
worship  at  all.  But,  without  any  religious  belief  and 
without  a  respectable  and  independent  clergy,  the 
people,  lacking  that  assistance,  that  check,  that  guid 
ance  which  are  so  necessary  to  their  moral  and  phys- 
cal  infirmities  and  wants,  would  become  lawless,  and 
the  world  would  again  be  taught  the  great  political 
truth,  too  much  forgotten  nowadays,  that  public  order 
reposes  on  religion,  and  that  its  ministers  are  the  best 
guaranties  which  governments  can  have  for  the  docil 
ity,  submission,  and  good  conduct  of  the  people.  It 
is  by  the  giving  of  alms  that  the  clergy  have  gained 
their  hearts.  How  can  the  clergy,  if  poor,  if  receiv 
ing  alms  themselves  and  unable  to  relieve  distress,  re 
tain  that  salutary  influence  ?  Reduce  the  clergy  to 
beggary,  make  efficient  charity  an  impossibility  for 
them,  confiscate  monasteries,  as  was  done  in  England, 
and  you  will  soon  have  a  poor  tax,  as  in  the  country 
of  Henry  VIII.  Besides,  remember  that  a  paid  clergy 
is  a  slavish  one.  They  will  be  tools,  they  will  obey, 
instead  of  directing  and  controlling.  In  the  name  of 
that  liberty  which  you  preach,  I  ask  why  you  should 
not  allow  us  to  be  free  ?  " 

Mirabeau.  "  Who  undertakes  aught  against  your 
liberty?" 

Labbe  Maury.  "  You,  who  are  advocating  the 
confiscation  of  what  we  possess.  Without  property, 
there  is  no  liberty.  Of  all  kinds  of  social  property, 
liberty  is  the  highest,  for  it  makes  a  man  proprietor 
of  himself.  Hence  the  necessity  of  property  to  in 
sure  liberty.  Is  it  by  making  new  victims  that  you 
wish  to  ameliorate  the  fate  of  the  old  ones?  The 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


233 


evils  which  we  have  to  remove  are  nothing  in  com 
parison  to  those  that  are  coming  upon  us.  From  the 
palace  of  our  kings  to  the  humblest  cottage,  every 
thing  is  in  fermentation.  What  a  spectacle  does 
France  present !  A  king  without  power,  and  a  peo 
ple  without  liberty  !  For,  already,  you  have  been 
compelled  to  prohibit  popular  meetings.  Ha  !  Ha  ! 
is  it  what  we  have  gained  by  exchanging  one  master 
for  twelve  hundred  ?  Go  on,  gentlemen,  go  on,  and 
you  will  soon  find  out  that  the  most  terrific  of  all 
despotisms  is  the  one  which  wears  the  mask  of  lib 
erty  ! " 

Mirabeau.  "  We  have  had  an  eloquent  speech 
from  L'abbe  Maury.  I  will  answer  him  in  the  National 
Assembly,  should  he  reproduce  his  sentiments  in  that 
body.  In  the  meantime  I  shall  content  myself  with 
saying,  that  blind  indeed  is  he  who  does  not  see  that 
the  time  has  come  for  the  destruction  of  all  those 
religious  communities  which  overshadow  the  land. 
If  it  be  a  question  of  expediency,  the  State  is  cer 
tainly  competent  to  decide  upon  it.  As  to  the  ques 
tion  of  right,  I  think  that  it  also  appertains  to  the 
same  authority  to  pronounce  on  the  subject.  For 
my  part,  I  am  convinced  that  corporations  have  no 
self-derived  existence,  and  are  not  created  solely  for 
themselves.  They  are  formed  and  preserved  mainly 
for  the  public  good,  and  must  cease  to  flourish  at  the 
very  moment  when  they  cease  to  be  useful.  Your 
religious  corporations,  Monsieur  L'abbe,  with  the 
ever-recurring  donations  made  to  them  in  the  shape 
of  endowments  or  otherwise,  by  vanity,  fear,  or  re 
morse,  would  in  the  end  absorb  all  the  capital  of  the 
kingdom  and  all  its  territory.  Hence  the  right  of 
the  State  to  destroy  them.  They,  on  the  other  hand, 


234  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

have  no  right  to  exist  forever,  because  they  once  ex 
isted.  If  a  tomb  had  been  erected  to  every  man  who 
lived  in  this  world,  it  would  unavoidably  have  been 
necessary  for  the  purpose  of  cultivation,  to  sweep  off 
those  monuments  in  order  to  have  land,  and  to  rake 
up  the  ashes  of  the  dead  to  find  food  for  the  living." 

Archbishop  of  Aix.  "  I  am  no  debater  or  orator. 
I  will  merely  assert,  as  an  article  of  faith  with  me, 
that  territorial  possessions  are  as  indispensable  to  the 
clergy  in  every  nation,  as  temporal  power  is  to  his 
Holiness  in  Rome." 

Mirabeau.  "  We  have  reached  an  epoch,  Monseig- 
ncur,  when,  repelling  dictation  and  deaf  to  the  teach 
ings  of  questionable  authority,  the  human  mind  will 
arrive  at  its  own  conclusions  on  every  subject.  There 
is  no  longer  any  implicit  faith  in  anything,  not  even 
in  the  infallibility  of  the  Pope." 

Labbe.  Maury.  "  And  pray,  Mr.  de  Mirabeau,  why 
should  there  not  be  implicit  faith  in  the  infallibility 
of  the  Pope?" 

Mirabeau.  "  Because  infallibility  is  the  attribute 
of  the  Deity,  and  because  it  is  sufficiently  hard  to 
believe  that,  to  save  the  human  race  from  perdition, 
God  became  man,  without  exacting  our  assent  to  the 
proposition  that,  for  the  same  purpose,  a  man  be 
comes  God." 

L'abbe,  Maury.  "  This  is  a  glittering  and  witty 
antithesis,  but  all  that  glitters  is  not  gold,  and  all 
that  is  wit  is  not  always  sense.  The  sober  truth  is, 
that  the  Pope  never  had  any  pretension  to  be  God. 
He  is  only  His  delegate  on  earth  to  teach  religious 
tenets  or  dogmas,  of  which  he  is,  therefore,  the  su 
preme  exponent.  That  shallow  minds  should  fling 
their  pointless  shafts  at  the  doctrine  of  his  infallibility 


A  UBER  T  DUB  A  YET.  235 

might  be  expected.  But  such  an  intellect  as  that  of 
Mr.  de  Mirabeau  should  better  understand  a  subject 
which  is  worthy  of  his  meditations,  and  which,  when 
understood,  may  command  his  assent,  instead  of 
tempting  him  into  a  disrespectful  sarcasm.  The 
Catholic,  Apostolic,  and  Roman  Church  is  an  elective 
monarchy.  The  Pope  is  a  theocratic  sovereign, 
chosen  without  regard  to  birth,  wealth,  and  nation 
ality,  by  electors  appointed  by  his  predecessors. 
There  can  be  no  human  society  without  government, 
no  government  without  sovereignty,  no  sovereignty 
without  supremacy,  and  no  supremacy  without  infalli 
bility,  absolute  or  relative,  real  or  fictitious.  One  of 
the  fundamental  principles  in  the  constitution  of  En 
gland  is,  that  the  king  can  do  no  wrong.  This  is  a 
declaration  of  infallibility.  The  King,  the  House  of 
Peers,  and  the  Commons  are  omnipotent,  when  acting 
in  concert.  That  is  admitted,  I  believe.  Therefore 
they  are  infallible ;  for  political  infallibility  can  not 
be  separated  from  political  omnipotence,  at  least  as  a 
legal  and  necessary  fiction.  Blackstone  says  in  his 
commentaries :  '  The  usurped  power  of  the  Pope 
being  destroyed,  the  crown  was  restored  to  its  suprem 
acy  over  spiritual  men  and  causes.'  Well,  the  Pope 
claims  no  more  for  himself  than  Blackstone  claims 
for  his  Protestant  King.  The  partisans  of  a  republi 
can  form  of  government  proclaim  that  absolute  sover 
eignty  lies  in  the  people — that  is  to  say,  omnipo 
tence,  undisputed  supremacy,  or  infallibility.  Vox 
popnli,  vox  Dei — the  voice  of  the  people  is  the  voice 
of  God.  This  has  become  an  axiom  in  the  school  of 
democracy.  But,  if  an  aggregation  of  men  are  the 
organ  of  the  Deity,  why  not  twenty,  or  ten,  or  even 
one  single  man  ?  What  is  that  proportion  or  degree 


236  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

of  aggregation  which  is  necessary  to  constitute 
supremacy  or  infallibility?  Shall  we  forget  that,  if 
we  have  often  heard  of  the  most  wonderful  wisdom 
or  virtue  in  individuals,  we  have  never  heard  of  it  as 
existing  in  the  masses  or  millions,  collectively? 

"  The  Church  asks  no  more  for  the  Pope  than  what 
temporal  sovereignties  ask  for  themselves — which  is, 
that  infallibility  or  supremacy  so  indispensable  to 
the  power  of  deciding  without  appeal ;  and  finally, 
the  Church,  I  say,  asks  no  more,  although  she  has 
over  temporal  sovereignties  an  immense  superiority, 
inasmuch  as  their  infallibility  is  a  mere  human  sup 
position  or  fiction,  arising  from  the  necessity  of  the 
case,  ex  necessitate  ret,  whilst,  in  the  Church,  infalli 
bility  is  the  accomplishment  of  a  divine  promise. 
England,  which  you  admire  so  much,  Mr.  de  Mira- 
beau,  has  put  temporal  and  spiritual  omnipotence  in 
her  king  and  parliament,  for  they  can  establish  and 
prescribe  what  is  to  be  the  religion  of  the  country. 
If  you  have  no  objection  to  that,  why  then  should 
you  blame  the  Church  for  placing  spiritual  supremacy 
or  infallibility  in  the  Pope  ?  Where  is  the  absurdity? 
Where  is  the  unprecedented  monstrosity?  The 
Church  does  not  go  as  far  as  England,  much  less  as 
far  as  Russia,  who  has  invested  one  single  man,  her 
emperor,  with  spiritual  and  temporal  omnipotence. 
The  fact  is,  that,  for  the  government  of  the  soul  as 
well  as  for  the  government  of  the  body,  there  must 
be  a  court  of  the  last  resort,  and  if  so,  it  is  sound 
policy  that  the  finality  and  infallibility  of  its  judg 
ments  should  go  hand  in  hand.  There  is  not  one  of 
the  Protestant  Churches  that  does  not  claim  to  teach 
the  truth.  That  is  logical ;  for  if  they  were  not  sure, 
in  their  estimation,  to  be  free  from  error,  how  could 


A  UBER T  D  USA  YE T.  237 

they  assume  the  responsibility  of  teaching  and  enforc 
ing  the  strict  adoption  and  observance  of  their  doc 
trines,  under  the  penalty  for  their  disciples  to  cease 
to  belong  to  their  respective  denominations  in  case  of 
dissent  ?  Does  not,  therefore,  the  Episcopalian  or 
the  Presbyterian  minister  claim  as  much  infallibility 
for  his  church,  as  the  Catholic  priest  does  for  his 
own  ?  For  my  part,  I  do  not  see  why  it  is  more  diffi 
cult  to  believe  in  the  infallibility  of  the  Pope,  than  in 
that  of  synods,  or  presbyteries." 

La  Rochefoucauld.  "  Infallible  or  not,  the  Catholic, 
Apostolic  and  Roman  Church  is  certainly  the  most 
wonderful  human  institution — viewing  it  only  in  that 
light — that  the  world  has  ever  seen  ;  for  not  only  has 
it  existed  eighteen  hundred  years,  but  it  has  ex 
isted  thus  long  without  any  material  modification  or 
alteration  in  its  essence,  and  without  any  diminution 
of  its  vitality.  No  other  of  the  institutions  of  men 
ever  approached  this  duration." 

Labbe  Maury.  "  Such  an  exemption  from  the  fate 
of  all  human  institutions  proves  that  the  Catholic, 
Apostolic  and  Roman  Church  has  a  supernatural 
character.  If  it  is  not  human,  it  must  be  divine,  and 
if  divine,  infallible." 

Chamfort.  "  Religious  questions  have  always  been 
very  perplexing  to  me.  The  relations  existing  be 
tween  the  human  race  and  its  Creator  seem  to  have 
become  obscure  since  our  first  disobedience,  and  seem 
to  produce  discontent  on  both  sides.  I  wish  the  Na 
tional  Assembly  would  enlighten  us  on  the  subject. 
It  has  given  us  a  declaration  of  the  rights  of  man, 
which,  I  think,  should  be  followed  by  a  declaration  of 
the  rights  of  God." 

Uabbe  Maury.     "  Sir,  the  sneer  that  lurks  in  your 


238  A  UBERT  DUB  A  YET. 

remarks  is  almost  justified  by  the  absurdity  of  that 
declaration  of  the  rights  of  man,  which  is  partly  bor 
rowed  from  the  famous  document  containing  the  dec 
laration  of  independence  of  the  United  States.  All 
men  born  free  and  equal,  forsooth  !  When  has  that 
ever  been  seen  since  the  deluge?  In  the  first  place, 
we  are  not  born  men  ;  we  are  born  children,  and  we 
remain  in  a  state  of  tutelage  until  we  are  men  ;  when 
arrived  at  the  age  of  manhood,  we  have  to  obey  laws 
which  we  have  not  made,  and  if  we  are  then  per 
mitted  to  have  a  share  in  the  legislation  of  our  coun 
try,  our  wishes  may  be  overruled  by  a  majority  that 
may  subject  us  to  a  government  we  detest,  and  thus 
we  are  never  free  from  the  moment  of  our  birth  to 
that  of  our  death.  As  to  equality  among  men,  it  is 
a  still  more  glaring  absurdity.  There  is  not  a  human 
being  who,  at  the  bottom  of  his  heart,  does  not  re 
pudiate  such  an  assertion.  Tell  an  honest  cobbler 
that  he  is  the  equal  of  anybody  in  the  land,  however 
high,  and  that  the  distance  between  him  and  those 
who  are  reputed  his  betters  is  a  mere  accident,  the 
folly  of  his  pride  may  smile  approvingly  at  the  bold 
ness  of  your  flattery.  But  tell  him  that  he  is  no  bet 
ter  than  the  lousy  beggar  at  the  corner  of  the  street, 
and  it  is  ten  to  one  that  he  will  knock  you  down.  It 
is  a  demagogic  lie.  There  is  no  equality  in  the  phys 
ical,  moral,  and  intellectual  departments  of  the  world, 
no  equality  among  the  trees  of  the  forests,  the  beasts, 
the  insects,  the  birds,  the  reptiles,  and  the  fishes. 
Even  geese  would  cackle  in  derision,  if  you  told  them 
that  one  of  their  feathered  tribe  is  as  good  as  the 
other,  for  they  have  a  leader.  The  bees  would  sting 
you  for  it ;  they  have  their  queen  and  their  drones ; 
the  ants  would  bite  you,  for  they  have  a  nobility,  the 


A  UBER T  D UBA  YET.  239 

distinction  of  classes,  and  even  slaves.  Man  alone  is 
stupid  enough  to  listen  to  such  barefaced  falsehood. 
Woe  to  those  who  shall  attempt  to  subvert  the  hie 
rarchy  which  God  has  ordained  in  heaven  and  on  earth ! 
Woe  to  the  mad  architect  who  will  attempt  to  make 
a  pyramid  repose  on  its  apex !  Woe  to  the  sociab 
body  which  stands  with  its  head  down  and  its  feet 
up !  In  that  inverted  and  unnatural  position,  its  lib 
erty  will  be  suffocated  from  the  afflux  of  blood  to  the 
lungs,  and  even  life  itself  will  depart.  The  United 
States  of  America  have  been  the  first  to  proclaim  this 
nonsense  as  an  aphorism,  and  they  will  be  the  first  to 
suffer  from  it.  Equality  among  men  demands  equal 
ity  of  rights,  civil  and  political ;  political  equality 
means  general  suffrage,  and  general  suffrage  means 
the  supreme  power  in  the  hands  of  the  ignorant,  the 
needy,  and  the  vicious.  When  that  fatal  hour  shall 
strike,  our  allies  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic  may 
bid  a  long  farewell  to  civilization." 

Talleyrand.  "  My  dear  abbe,  you  are  performing 
the  part  of  Cassandra.  I  am  afraid  that  you  have 
not  dined  well.  Forgetting  the  Americans  and  the 
wooden  horse  with  which  you  threaten  them,  let  us 
adjourn  to  the  adjacent  saloons,  where  coffee  will  be 
brought  to  us.  We  shall  meet  friends,  for  this  is,  you 
know,  my  reception  evening." 


CHAPTER    XVII. 
TALLEYRAND'S  EVENING  RECEPTION. 

WHEN  the  party  of  guests  moved  from  the  dinner- 
table  to  the  reception-rooms,  they  found  in  them  from 
forty  to  fifty  persons,  most  of  whom  divided  into 
groups,  some  sitting,  some  standing,  and  some  prom 
enading,  whilst  engaged  in  animated  conversation. 
Talleyrand  courteously  addressed  every  one  of  them 
in  turn,  saying  some  civil  things  to  all.  Not  a  single 
one  was  neglected.  After  that,  he  languidly  sauntered 
a  little  while  in  a  listless  manner,  with  his  eyes  half 
closed,  apparently  inattentive  to  anything,  when  in 
reality  nothing  escaped  his  observation.  Suddenly 
he  approached  Gouverneur  Morris,  the  American  min 
ister  plenipotentiary,  took  him  by  the  arm,  and  lead 
ing  him  to  a  sofa,  invited  him  to  sit  down  on  his  right, 
whilst,  beckoning  to  Lafayette,  he  made  him  take  a 
seat  on  his  left. 

"  I  hope,"  said  he  to  Morris,  "  that  you  have  Iate4y 
heard  from  General  Washington,  that  he  is  well,  and 
that  your  country  is  in  a  prosperous  condition." 

Morris.  "  General  Washington  writes  exultingly  * 
of  the  state  of  the  country  and  of  the  attachment  of 
all  classes  to  the  government.  He  says  that,  while 
in  Europe  wars  or  commotions  seem  to  agitate  almost 
every  nation,  peace  and  tranquillity  prevail  among  us, 


*  Washington's  Letter  to  Lafayette. 
(240) 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  24 1 

except  in  some  part  of  our  Western  frontiers,  where 
the  Indians  have  been  troublesome,  to  reclaim  or 
chastise  whom,  proper  measures  are  now  pursuing. 
He  thinks  that  this  contrast  between  the  situation 
of  the  United  States  and  that  of  Europe  is  too  strik 
ing  to  be  passed  over,  even  by  the  most  superficial 
observer,  and  he  believes  that  it  may  be  considered 
as  one  great  cause  of  leading  the  people  there  to  re 
flect  more  attentively  on  their  own  prosperous  state, 
and  to  examine  more  minutely,  and  consequently 
approve  more  fully  of,  the  government  under  which 
they  live,  than  they  would  otherwise  have  done.  But 
he  does  not  wish  us  to  be  the  only  people  who  may 
taste  the  sweets  of  an  equal  and  good  government. 
He  looks  with  an  anxious  eye  to  the  time  when  hap 
piness  and  tranquillity  shall  prevail  in  your  country, 
and  all  Europe  shall  be  freed  from  commotions,  tu 
mults,  and  alarms." 

Talleyrand,  "  Such  generous  sentiments  are  worthy 
of  that  great  man.  But,  what  are  your  own,  Mr. 
Morris,  on  our  affairs?  You  are  an  impartial  and 
sagacious  spectator,  who  has  a  full  view  of  the  stage 
on  which  we  are  acting." 

Morris.  "  I  am  sorry  to  tell  you,  Sir,  that  I  take 
but  a  gloomy  survey  of  the  spectacle  which  is  before 
me.*  Permit  me  to  say,  with  a  somewhat  rude  but 
well-meant  severity,  that  your  unhappy  country,  be 
wildered  in  the  pursuit  of  metaphysical  whimsies  and 
political  Utopias,  presents  to  my  moral  view  nothing 
but  a  mighty  ruin.  Like  the  remnants  of  ancient 
magnificence,  we  admire  the  architecture  of  the  tem 
ple,  while  we  detest  the  false  god  to  whom  it  was 


*  Morris  to  Lafayette, 
n 


242 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


dedicated.  Daws,  and  ravens,  and  the  birds  of  night 
now  build  their  nests  in  its  niches.  The  sovereign, 
humbled  to  the  level  of  a  beggar's  pity,  is  without 
resources,  without  authority,  without  a  friend.  The 
National  Assembly  is  at  once  a  master  and  a  slave — 
the  master  of  the  king,  and  the  slave  of  the  populace. 
It  is  new  in  power,  wild  in  theory,  raw  in  practice. 
It  engrosses  all  functions,  whilst  incapable  of  exer 
cising  any,  and  has  taken  from  this  fierce,  ferocious 
people  every  restraint  of  religion  and  respect.  Hith 
erto,  my  dear  General  Lafayette,  you  have  performed 
a  splendid  part ;  you  stand  as  a  rampart  between  roy 
alty  and  democracy,  and,  thus  far,  you  have  prevented 
a  frightful  collision.  But  how  long  will  it  last?  The 
king  obeys,  but  detests  you.  He  obeys  because  he 
fears.  As  to  the  people,  they  also  obey  you,  because 
they  trust  and  love  him  whom  they  consider  as  their 
champion.  But,  how  long  will  they  trust  and  love  ?" 
Lafayette.  "  I  expect,*  of  course,  to  continue  for 
some  time  to  be  tossed  on  an  ocean  of  factions  and 
commotions  of  every  kind  ;  for  it  is  my  fate  to  be  at 
tacked  with  great  animosity,  on  one  side,  by  all  that 
is  aristocratic,  servile,  parliamentary — in  a  word,  by 
all  the  adversaries  of  my  free  and  leveling  doctrine  ; 
on  the  other,  by  the  Orleans  and  anti-monarchical 
factions,  and  all  the  workers  of  disorder  and  pillage. 
It  is  doubtful  whether  I  may  escape  personally  from 
so  many  enemies,  but  the  success  of  our  grand  and 
good  revolution  is,  at  least,  thank  Heaven,  assured  in 
France,  and  soon  it  will  propagate  itself  in  the  rest  of 
the  world,  if  we  succeed  in  establishing  public  order 
in  this  country.  Unfortunately,  the  people  have  much 


*  Lafayette  to  Washington. 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


243 


better  learnt  to  overthrow  despotism  than  to  com 
prehend  the  duty  of  submission  to  law.  But  we 
must  have  patience  and  forbearance.  For  my  part,  I 
will,  as  a  leader,  pursue  the  course  of  moderation, 
avoiding  all  excesses,  and  I  have  no  doubt  that  all 
will  be  right  in  the  end." 

Morris.  "  Moderation  !  Moderation  in  a  revolu 
tion  such  as  yours  is  destined  to  be !  Revolutions 
always  rush  to  their  extreme  limits,  General,  and 
leave  moderation  stranded  far  behind.  In  the  stormy 
nights  of  popular  commotions,  it  is  better  for  a  leader, 
better  for  his  followers,  and  better  for  the  cause  he 
has  espoused,  that  he  should  be  a  bold,  cold-hearted, 
ever  calculating,  unscrupulous,  and  iron-handed,  but 
far-seeing  pilot,  than  a  warm,  generous,  honest,  and 
impulsive  one,  with  his  organ  of  vision  obstructed  or 
impaired  by  his  sensibilities,  or  by  illusions  of  his  own 
raising." 

Lafayette.  "If  you  apply  this  to  me,  my  friend, 
I  assure  you  that  I  have  no  illusions.  I  give  you  the 
assurance  that  my  conviction  is,  that  our  troubles  will 
not  be  terminated  until  our  intended  constitution  is 
thoroughly  formed  and  established.  Nevertheless, 
though  our  horizon  is  still  very  dark,  we  commence 
to  foresee  the  moment  when  a  new  legislature  will 
replace  our  Assembly :  and,  unless  there  come  an  in 
tervention  of  foreign  powers,  I  shall  have  resumed  th-e 
life  of  a  peaceful  and  simple  citizen."* 

Morris.  "  Amen !  Better  the  shades  of  your 
chateau  de  la  Grange  than  the  pangs  of  exile  and  the 
horrors  of  a  dungeon  !  " 

Lafayette.     "  I  see  nothing,  after  all,  justifying  ex- 


*  Lafayette  to  Washington, 


244  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T- 

cessive  alarms.  The  rage  of  party  between  the  two 
different  shades  of  patriots  has  gone  very  far,  it  is 
true ;  but,  as  yet,  with  little  effusion  of  blood.  If,  as 
I  am  willing  to  admit,  animosities  are  far  from  subsid 
ing,  yet  present  circumstances  are  somewhat  less  men 
acing  of  a  collision  between  the  different  supporters 
of  the  popular  cause.  As  to  myself,  I  am  always  the 
butt  for  attacks  of  all  parties,because  they  see  in  my  per 
son  an  insurmountable  obstacle  to  their  evil  designs.* 
In  the  meantime,  what  appears  to  me  a  species  of 
phenomenon,  my  popularity  hitherto  has  not  been 
shaken." 

Morris.  "Alas,  beware!  Popularity,  you  know, 
is  but  the  broken  reed  which  pierces  the  hand  that 
rests  on  it." 

During  this  conversation,  reclining  in  an  easy  post 
ure  against  the  back  of  the  sofa,  Talleyrand  had  closed 
entirely  his  eyes,  which  he  habitually  kept  half  shut. 
His  face  was  expressionless,  but  a  keen  observer 
might  have  detected  an  almost  imperceptible  smile  of 
irony  occasionally  flitting  on  his  lips. 

Mirabeau  had  approached  the  group.  "  Count," 
said  Lafayette,  "  I  have  just  told  Mr.  Morris  that  our 
troubles  will  not  terminate  before  the  constitution 
we  are  preparing  is  completed  and  adopted." 

"  An  upstart  constitution  is  but  a  poor  panacea," 
replied  Mirabeau.  "  A  constitution  of  yesterday  is 
too  new  for  the  evils  of  to-day,  and  too  old  for  those 
of  to-morrow.  Give  me  a  constitution  which,  like 
that  of  England,  has  been  made  by  nobody  living, 
but  is  the  gradual  and  imperceptible  work  of  ages— 
a  constitution  which  has  grown  and  expanded  with 


*  Lafayette  to  Washington. 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


245 


the  nation,  as  the  soul  does  with  the  human  body — a 
constitution  which,  composed  of  traditions  and  prece 
dents,  is  invisible  and  impalpable  like  the  atmosphere 
of  liberty  in  which  it  flourishes,  but  is  felt  through 
every  pore  of  the  commonwealth.  Give  me  an  elastic 
and  easy  coat  that  adapts  itself  to  the  enlargement  or 
contraction  of  every  limb,  as  it  grows  fat  or  lean,  and 
impedes  no  unforeseen  movement  or  action.  But  a 
written  constitution  is  not  worth  the  paper  on  which 
it  is  inscribed,  although,  by  the  force  of  circumstances, 
I  am  compelled  to  lend  my  aid  to  such  an  abortive 
creation.  A  written  constitution  is  for  a  people  what 
a  strait-jacket  is  for  a  man.  But,  what  will  subdue 
the  one,  will  be  broken  through  by  the  other.  It  is 
attempting  to  chain  a  Titan  with  a  cobweb.  Pshaw ! 
A  written  constitution  is  no  better  than  an  almanac; 
it  will  have  to  be  changed  every  year.  I  have  always 
wished  to  retain  all  that  was  good  in  our  old  regime, 
but  most  of  my  colleagues  are  opposed  to  it.  I  wished 
to  engraft  the  sapling  of  the  present  on  the  sturdy 
oak  of  the  past.  But  no,  we  seem  determined  to  act 
as  if  we  imagined  that  we  are  but  one  day  older  than 
creation.  Everything  is  new ;  there  is  nothing  that 
has  preceded  us,  and  with  which  we  are  bound  to 
reckon.  We  forget  that  life  is  not  self-generated,  that 
it  proceeds  from  anterior  life,  and,  therefore,  that  we 
must  connect  harmoniously  our  present  and  future 
existence  with  that  of  the  past.  I  think  that  we  are 
introducing  too  much  radicalism  into  our  fundamental 
institution  ;  and,  as  extreme  radicalism  is  the  root  of 
all  troubles,  I  am  afraid,  General,  that  we  are  not  near 
the  end  of  ours.  Instead  of  using  as  a  foundation 
the  primeval  rock  of  antiquity  which  God  has  given 
us,  we  pulverize  it  and  fling  it  to  the  four  winds  of 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

heaven.  Hence  there  remains  but  an  abyss  on  which 
to  build  the  edifice  which  we  destine  for  ourselves 
and  for  posterity.  But,  excuse  me,  I  see  Cabanis  and 
Candorcet  just  coming  in.  I  know  that  they  have 
something  to  say  to  me,"  and  he  turned  on  his  heels, 
with  a  slight  bow  to  the  company  from  whom  he  de 
parted. 

Morris.  "  Mr.  de  Mirabeau  is  more  conservative 
than  I  thought." 

Talleyrand  (inhaling  a  pinch  of  snuff).  "  And  more 
musical  than  you  have  any  idea  of.  He  has  been,  of 
late,  taking  long  lessons  on  the  violin  from  Tintin 
Calandro,  the  chief  musician  of  the  Princess  de  Lam- 
balle,  who  is,  as  you  know,  the  confidential  and  bosom 
friend  of  the  queen.  Mr.  de  Mirabeau  is  a  wonderful 
man,  Mr.  Morris." 

"  Yes,  a  very  wonderful  man ! "  echoed  Brissot,  a 
member  of  the  National  Assembly,  who,  at  that  mo 
ment,  had  come  to  salute  Talleyrand,  and  who  some 
times  amused  his  colleagues  by  the  uncalled-for  bursts 
of  his  excessive  anglophobia ;  "  but  it  is  a  pity  that 
he  is  so  infatuated  about  the  English  constitution, 
and  that  he  wishes  to  assimilate  ours  to  the  one  which 
rules  those  thick-headed,  pudding-eating  islanders,  with 
whom  we  have  nothing  in  common,  either  in  thought, 
feeling,  or  language,  either  in  eating  or  drinking, 
either  in  sleeping  or  waking.  The  constitution 
of  England!  Whew!  That  constitution  is  the 
cause  of  her  ruin.  Everybody  knows  that  she  is 
lost." 

"  What ! "  exclaimed  Talleyrand,  with  a  comical 
expression  of  dismay,  "  England  is  lost !  When  did 
you  receive  such  stupendous  news,  Mr.  Brissot  ?  By 
what  degree  of  latitude  was  she  lost?  How  many 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


247 


men,  women,  and  children  were  saved  from  the  wreck, 
or  did  they  all  perish?" 

This  was  said  in  Talleyrand's  inimitable  way.  It 
produced  a  hearty  laugh,  and  Brissot  was  somewhat 
disconcerted.  "  But,"  continued  Talleyrand,  with  a 
genial  expression  of  kindness,  "  excuse  this  little  bit 
of  raillery.  I  never  take  such  liberties  except  with 
my  friends.  Give  me  your  arm,  for  you  know  I  am 
somewhat  lame,  and,  leaving  General  Lafayette  and 
Mr.  Gouverneur  Morris  together,  who  will  be  glad  to 
talk  of  American  affairs,  let  us  join  L'abbe  Maury  and 
Mr.  de  Robespierre,  who  seem  to  be  engaged  in  an 
interesting  discussion." 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

AN   INTELLECTUAL    PASSAGE-AT-ARMS    BETWEEN 
L'ABBE  MAURY  AND  ROBESPIERRE. 

ROBESPIERRE  was  a  sour-looking,  undersized  man, 
extremely  spruce  and  rigidly  neat  in  his  dress,  almost 
a  dandy,  but  of  too  sinister  an  aspect  for  such  a  char 
acter.  His  unsteady  look,  which  seemed  always 
anxious  to  avoid  meeting  the  look  of  any  one  with 
whom  he  conversed,  the  incessant  nervous  quivering 
of  his  eyelids,  his  receding  narrow  forehead,  his  sandy 
hair,  the  peculiar  smile  of  his  thin  lips,  his  upturned 
nose,  his  ghastly  complexion,  his  dogmatic  and  dry 
manner,  the  hissing  intonations  of  his  voice  when 
he  was  excited,  the  occasional  convulsive  twitches  of 
his  limbs,  produced  the  most  disagreeable  impression. 
It  would  have  been  impossible  for  a  physiognomist 
not  to  feel  uncomfortable  in  his  presence.  When 
Talleyrand  and  Brissot  approached,  he  was  saying  to 
L'abbe  Maury:  "  Nothing,  in  my  opinion,  Sir,  can  re 
generate  France  but  a  republican  form  of  govern 
ment." 

L'abbe  Maury.     "  Aristocratic,  or  democratic  ?  " 
Robespierre.     "  Democratic,  of  course." 
Labbe  Maury.     "  Founded  on  the  absolute  sover 
eignty  of  the  people?  " 

Robespierre.     "  Undoubtedly." 

L'abbe  Maury.      "  Equality  of    political  and  civil 
rights  for  all  Frenchmen  ?  " 
(248) 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  249 

Robespierre.     "  Certainly." 

L'abbe  Maury.     "  That  implies  general  suffrage." 

Robespierre.     "  A  logical  deduction." 

Labbe  Maury.  "  I  am  glad  to  see  that  we  may  not 
be  irreconcilable  on  all  points.  Thus,  if  I  understand 
you,  the  people,  in  their  collective  capacity,  are  to  as 
sume,  without  opposition  and  deception,  the  control 
of  their  own  destinies,  and  are  to  decide,  whenever 
they  choose,  what  is,  or  what  is  not,  for  their  general 
welfare?" 

Robespierre.     "That  is  my  doctrine." 

L'abbe  Maury.  "  Well,  you  are  for  a  republic  ;  I  am 
for  a  monarchy.  I  propose  that  we  refer  the  ques 
tion  to  the  people,  and  accept  their  verdict." 

Robespierre.  "  Provided  that  the  clergy,  the  nobil 
ity,  the  army,  the  navy,  and  all  persons  depending  on 
them,  and  also  all  the  employes,  high  and  low,  of  the 
Government,  with  their  dependents,  be  excluded. 
They  could  not  be  impartial." 

L'abbe  Maury.  "  This  would  be  excluding  half  of 
the  French  people.  But,  proceed  ;  I  am  in  a  liberal 
mood  this  evening,  and  I  am  willing  to  grant  all  you 
want.  Let  it  be  as  you  say,  and  let  the  populace  of 
the  cities  and  the  peasantry  be  alone  consulted." 

Robespierre.  "  Not  yet.  They  are  still  under  the 
influence  of  the  excluded  classes.  They  are  too  ig 
norant.  They  must  previously  be  educated  into  a 
proper  knowledge  of  their  rights." 

Labbe,  Maury.  "  Oh  !  oh  !  I  understand.  A  few 
educators,  philosophers,  and  philanthropists,  like  Mr. 
de  Robespierre,  will  appoint  themselves  the  represent 
atives  and  tutors  of  the  people.  They  will  constitute 
a  regency  with  unlimited  powers,  whilst  paternally 
forming  the  heart  and  judgment  of  their  confiding 
n* 


250  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

pupils,  and  qualifying  them  for  the  future  sovereignty 
which  they  are  to  exercise.  But  you  must  admit 
that,  in  the  meantime,  it  will  be  the  government  of  a 
minority — which  is  anti-democratic.  Thus  your  con 
clusions  are  at  variance  with  your  premises." 

Robespierre.  "  Only  temporarily.  This  minority 
will,  in  the  end,  swell  into  a  majority,  by  educating 
the  people  and  preparing  them  for  liberty." 

L'abbe  Maury.  "In  the  end  !  When  will  that  end 
come  ?  How  long  will  it  take  ?  " 

Robespierre.  "  I  can  not  tell.  It  must  be  left  to 
circumstances." 

L'abbe  Maury.  "  But,  during  that  indefinite  space 
of  time,  we  shall  be  living  in  a  republic  only  in  name, 
not  in  reality.  For,  the  minority,  whilst  educating 
the  majority,  will  rule  without  consulting  it." 

Robespierre.  "  It  will  be  a  transient  evil,  to  secure 
a  permanent  good.  A  republic  must  repose  on  virtue 
and  universal  education.  Otherwise,  it  would  soon 
perish.  The  people  must  be  gradually  prepared  for 
the  new  condition  to  which  they  are  destined." 

Labbe  Maury.  "  You  talk  so  fair,  Mr.  de  Robes 
pierre,  that  I  am  almost  converted,  and  that  I  am 
tempted  to  hope  that  you  will  make  the  world  see 
the  day  when  the  lamb  shall  lie  in  peace  with  the 
wolf,  or  rather,  when  all  wolves  shall  be  sheep.  A 
government  founded  on  virtue  and  general  education 
It  makes  my  mouth  water." 

Robespierre.  "  Mr.  L'abbe  is  disposed  to  jest,  whilst 
I  am  in  earnest." 

L'abbe  Maury.  "  Well,  Sir,  I  shall  be  serious  enough 
to  please  you.  I  suppose  that  you  understand  by 
education,  that  series  of  scientific  and  scholarly  in 
struction  and  moral  discipline  which  is  intended  to 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  2$  I 

enlighten  the  understanding,  correct  the  temper,  and 
form  the  manners  and  habits  of  youth  to  fit  them  for 
usefulness  in  their  future  stations." 

Robespierre.  "  I  do  not  object  to  the  definition." 
Uabbt  Maury.  "  But  who  is  to  prescribe  and  to 
impart  that  education  ?  Not  the  one  half  of  the  peo 
ple  of  France  whom  you  have  disfranchised,  because, 
if  they  are  too  disloyal  to  vote,  they  are  too  danger 
ous  to  be  permitted  to  teach  ;  and  not  the  other  half, 
who  are  too  ignorant  to  be  trusted,  as  you  think,  with 
political  power  for  the  present.  If  they  are  too  ig 
norant  for  self-government,  surely  they  are  too  igno 
rant  to  educate  others.  Thus  you  alone  and  your 
friends,  that  is,  a  handful  of  men,  regardless  of  what 
may  be  the  will  of  an  immense  majority  of  your  fel 
low-citizens  whom  you  do  not  consult,  after  having 
determined  what  is  the  best  form  of  government  for 
them,  are  to  settle  what  is  the  most  efficient  educa 
tion  to  be  given  to  the  rising  generation,  in  order  to 
prepare  it  for  the  support  of  that  very  government. 
But  pray,  Sir,  how  are  you  to  determine  the  various 
degrees  of  education  which  must  be  made  to  har 
monize  with  the  future  stations  of  your  innumerable 
pupils?  What  basis  will  you  go  upon?  Will  it  be 
the  accident  of  birth,  or  of  social  position,  or  the  in 
dication  of  intellect?  How  much  of  education  will 
be  allowed  to  the  son  of  a  tailor,  a  cobbler,  a  peasant, 
or  a  rag-picker  ?  Will  it  be  in  reference  to  the  prob 
ability  of  their  pursuing  the  avocations  of  their  par 
ents?  When  and  how  will  you  acquire  that  knowl 
edge  ?  Will  you  consult  their  wishes  or  tastes,  or 
will  you  make  them  conform  to  the  better  judgment 
of  their  teachers  ?  At  what  period  of  the  life  of  a 
student  will  a  decision  be  taken  on  the  qualifications 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

which  he  may  have  for  a  future  station,  in  order  to 
direct  his  education  accordingly?" 

Robespierre.  "  My  plan  is  much  more  simple.  I 
am  in  favor  of  the  same  system  and  degree  of  educa 
tion  for  all.  I  want  no  distinction.  The  proficiency 
of  each  child  in  his  studies,  and  his  qualifications  as 
they  are  developed,  will  determine  his  future  station 
in  life.  Let  there  be  the  same  incubation  for  all  the 
eggs  of  the  nation,  without  presuming  to  ascertain  in 
advance  out  of  which  shells  will  come  the  eagle,  the 
buzzard,  or  the  crow.  Let  there  be  public  schools 
supported  by  taxation." 

Labbe  Maury.  "If  poor  parents  say  that  they 
can  not  spare  their  children  whom  they  need  at  home 
to  work  and  make  a  living,  if  they  refuse  to  send 
them  to  your  schools,  what  then?" 

Robespierre.     "  They  shall  be  compelled." 

Labbe  Maury.  "  Who  will  clothe  and  feed  those 
children  when  they  are  at  school  ?  For  you  can  not 
deny  that,  in  our  country,  children,  even  in  very  early 
life,  must  help  their  parents  by  their  labor." 

Robespierre.  "  These  are  details  into  which  the 
State  can  not  enter.  The  State  can  not  be  expected 
to  take  the  trouble  of  ascertaining  who  are,  and  who 
are  not,  the  parents  that  can  support  their  children, 
or  what  degree  of  support  they  can  give  them,  with 
out  relying  on  the  co-operative  labor  of  those  chil 
dren." 

L'abbe  Maury.  "  Very  well,  I  see  how  it  will  work. 
The  poor  who  will  say  that  they  can  not  support  their 
children  at  school,  and  who  will  refuse  to  send  them 
there,  will  be  fined,  I  suppose.  If  they  do  not  pay 
the  fine,  they  will  be  imprisoned,  and,  in  that  case, 
the  State  will  have  to  support  the  parents  in  jail  and 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  253 

the  quasi  orphans  at  school.  Otherwise,  they  would 
not  be  educated  at  all,  and  for  a  very  good  reason,  be 
cause  they  would  starve — their  parents  being  locked 
up.  Pshaw  !  Is  it  not  self-evident  that  it  is  an  impos 
sibility  to  disseminate  education  equally  among  all 
classes,  even  under  the  very  best  form  of  all  govern 
ments — a  French  republic?" 

Robespierre.  "  For  a  republic  founded  on  fraternity, 
equality,  and  the  acknowledged  rights  of  man,  an  im 
possibility  is  merely  a  feasibility  bristling  with  diffi 
culties." 

L'abbe  Maury.  "  Sublime  !  I  am  so  overpowered 
that  I  give  up.  I  grant  that  the  cup  of  classic  lore, 
if  not  a  dish  of  broth,  can  be  brought  to  the  lips  of 
every  poor  child  in  France.  But  the  rich  ? — the  rich 
who  shall  pay  for  the  education  of  the  poor,  whether 
they  approve,  or  do  not  approve,  of  the  tax  and  of 
the  nature  of  that  education,  will,  at  least,  be  per 
mitted,  I  suppose,  to  rear  their  own  children  after 
their  own  fashion?  If  so,  one  half  of  France  will  be 
educated  very  differently  from  the  other.  Here  is  at 
once  a  stab  between  the  fourth  and  fifth  ribs  of  that 
equality  of  which  you  dream  in  everything." 

Robespierre.  "This  would  be  anti-republican.  The 
rich  and  the  poor  must  be  fused  and  must  matriculate 
together  at  the  same  public  schools.  There  they  will 
be  born  again,  as  it  were,  and  will  fraternally  come  out 
of  the  vast  womb  of  the  same  motherly  education." 

L'abbe,  Maury.  "  What !  All  proprietors,  or  rich 
men,  after  having  been  heavily  taxed  to  educate  the 
children  of  those  who  own  nothing,  and  therefore  do 
not  pay  any  portion  of  that  tax,  shall  be  compelled 
to  subject  their  own  children  to  a  course  of  education 
which  they  may  deem  deleterious !  " 


254 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


Robespierre.  "  The  State  is  the  best  judge  of  that. 
It  will  be  an  education  preparatory  and  conducive  to 
social  equality,  the  greatest  of  all  blessings.  There 
will  no  longer  be  left  an  inch  of  ground  for  an  aris 
tocracy  to  stand  upon." 

L'abbe  Maury.  "  Why  not  come  at  once  to  the 
tables  in  common  of  Sparta,  where  all  citizens,  high 
or  low,  ate  together?" 

Robespierre.  "  We  may  come  to  that  in  due  time, 
for  under  the  fraternal  rod  of  equality  there  will  be 
neither  high  nor  low." 

Labb'e  Maury.  "  Admitting  that  there  should  be 
one  day  neither  high  nor  low,  and  that  society  should 
have  become  as  flat  as  the  back  of  a  bedbug,  you  will 
grant,  I  presume,  that  men  who  are  on  a  footing  of 
equality,  have  an  equal  and  inalienable  right  to  think 
for  themselves  ?" 

Robespierre.     "  Unquestionably." 

L'abbe  Maury.  "  Very  good.  You  know  that 
watches,  however  similarly  constructed,  never  can  be 
made  to  agree  for  any  length  of  time.  Charles  V. 
found  that  out.  Therefore,  you  can  not  expect  unan 
imity  of  thought  even  among  those  whom  your  dem 
ocratic  education  will  mould  into  equals.  From  some 
quarter,  perhaps  the  least  suspected,  there  may  come 
some  fierce  opposition  to  the  continuance  of  your 
system." 

Robespierre.  "  It  would  be  treason  against  liberty, 
and  such  treason  must  be  crushed  without  mercy." 

L'abbe  Maury.  "  O  liberty,  how  much  despotism 
there  may  be  in  a  republic  !  " 

Robespierre.  "  Permit  me,  Monsieur  L'abbe,  to  put 
you  in  mind  of  certain  words  which  fell  from  the  lips 
of  one  who  belonged  to  your  holy  order.  When  I  find 


A  UBEKT  DUB  A  YET. 

obstacles  in  my  way,  said  Cardinal  Richelieu,  /  mow 
them  down,  and,  covering  them  with  my  scarlet  mantle, 
I  step  over.  Like  him,  I  would  mow  down  all  my  op 
ponents  with  the  scythe  of  progress,  and,  throwing 
over  their  corpses  the  red  flag  of  liberty,  I  would 
move  onward." 

Labbe  Maury.  "  If  you  ever  wield  the  axe  of  that 
wonderful  man,  may  you  have  his  genius  to  direct 
your  arm !  He  assumed  a  frightful  responsibility. 
But  France,  remembering  that  he  made  her  great,  has 
absolved  him  from  the  blood  he  shed.  To  him  we 
owe,  long  after  his  death,  the  splendors  of  the  reign 
of  Louis  XIV.  Should  you  ever  become  a  ruler 
among  men,  and  should  you  ever  spill  blood  like  him, 
may  you  be  able  to  make  as  good  a  defense  as  he  be 
fore  the  tribunal  of  posterity,  and  may  you,  on  the 
page  of  history,  appear  as  grand  a  figure  with  your 
red  flag  of  liberty,  as  the  great  cardinal  with  his  scar 
let  mantle,  which  he  spread  as  a  protecting  screen  be 
tween  the  stability  of  anointed  royalty  and  the  tur 
bulence  of  feudal  anarchy,  between  the  hereditary 
power  of  one  legitimate  sovereign  and  the  selfish 
conspiracies  of  a  thousand  would-be  usurpers  of  au 
thority,  who,  ever  changing  and  ever  hungry,  would 
devour  the  last  crumb  of  the  substance  of  the  peo 
ple!" 

Robespierre.  "  Although  I  have  quoted  Richelieu, 
I  am  not  ambitious  to  have  anything  in  common  with 
him.  My  model  is  Tiberius  Gracchus." 

L'abbe  Maury.  "  Cardinal  Richelieu  died  quietly 
in  his  bed,  forgiving  his  enemies,  and  with  a  conscience 
which  he  declared  to  be  calm.  Tiberius  Gracchus 
had  the  tragical  fate  of  a  revolutionist,  of  a  flatterer 
of  the  populace,  and  died  with  imprecations  on  his 


256  A  USER  T  D USA  YE T. 

lips.  But  allow  me  one  more  question  in  relation  to 
your  aphorism  :  that  a  republic  must  rest  on  virtue  and 
education.  What  your  intended  plan  of  education  is, 
I  have  been  sufficiently  informed.  Thanks  to  it,  I 
take  it  for  granted  that  every  man  in  France  will,  in 
due  course  of  time,  be  as  well  read  in  polite  literature 
and  will  possess  as  many  scholarly  attainments  as 
yourself.  But  I  am  curious  to  know  what  system  you 
will  establish  to  secure  the  reign  of  virtue  among  the 
people.  Virtue  is  based  on  morality,  and  morality 
rests  on  religion.  Morality  without  religion  is  like  a 
woman  without  chastity.  Let  temptation  open  the 
door,  and  sin  will  enter.  I  know  that  philosophists 
maintain  that  virtue  may  exist,  distinct  from  religion. 
They  say  that  the  practice  of  moral  duties,  merely 
from  motives  of  conscience,  or  from  compulsion,  or 
from  regard  to  reputation,  is  virtue  Surely  this  can 
not  be  your  appreciation  of  it.  What  can  be  the  so 
lidity  of  that  virtue  which  is  based  on  convenience  or 
compulsion?  Let  that  convenience  or  that  compul 
sion  cease,  and  where  is  virtue  ?  As  to  a  mere  regard 
to  reputation,  it  is  clear  that  it  would  not  be  a  relia 
ble  foundation,  because  virtue,  whenever  sure  of  her 
reputation  being  protected  by  secrecy,  might  be  se 
duced  into  some  indecorous  eccentricity  of  behavior. 
It  is  laughable  to  think  of  putting  trust  in  that  kind 
of  virtue  which,  caring  only  for  reputation,  would  grow 
weak  or  strong  according  to  the  probabilities  of  detec 
tion.  Therefore,  considering  virtue  and  religion  as 
inseparably  connected,  I  beg  leave  to  ask  what  relig 
ion  would  be  taught  in  your  schools." 

Robespierre.  "  Every  one  has  the  right  to  worship 
his  Creator,  or  not,  according  to  his  own  free  will, 
and  in  the  form  he  pleases.  No  particular  religion, 


A  UBERT  DUB  A  YET.  257 

therefore,  can  be  taught  in  the  public  schools  in  pref 
erence  to  another ;  and,  as  the  teaching  of  all  creeds 
indiscriminately  would  produce  confusion  and  the 
most  mischievous  squabbles,  it  shall  be  prohibited. 
The  works  of  Plato,  Horace,  Virgil,  Cicero,  and  such 
other  productions  of  human  genius,  ancient  and  mod 
ern,  shall  be  read,  but  neither  the  Protestant,  nor  the 
Catholic  Bible,  nor  the  Koran,  nor  any  other  religious 
code." 

Labbe  Maury.  "  Exactly  what  I  expected.  God 
has  become  an  obsolete  piece  of  furniture  in  this 
renovated  and  improved  household  of  scientific  doc 
tors  and  philanthropic  reformers,  and  is  to  be  cast 
aside  with  what  is  called  the  remaining  rubbish  of 
superstition." 

Robespierre.  "  Not  at  all.  Voltaire  has  said  with 
truth  and  pithiness  of  expression  :  If  God  did  not  ex 
ist  it  would  be  necessary  to  invent  Him.  Atheism  is 
aristocratic.*  Nothing  is  more  essentially  popular 
and  democratic  than  the  idea  of  a  Great  Being  who 
watches  over  oppressed  innocence,  and  who  punishes 
triumphant  crime.  Therefore  my  republic  would  ac 
knowledge  Him  by  a  national  decree." 

L'abbe  Maury.  "  The  Supreme  Being  would,  no 
doubt,  feel  highly  complimented  and  be  grateful  for 
the  honor.  The  next  step,  I  suppose,  will  be  to  pro 
claim  the  existence  of  the  sun.  Well,  the  world, 
thanks  to  your  republic,  is  informed  that  God  exists. 
But  is  that  all  ?  Will  not  the  republic  deign  to  do 
something  more  for  Him?  Will  He  not  have  His 
temples  and  His  ministers?  " 

Robespierre.  "  His  temple  is  the  universe  ;  all  men 
are  His  ministers  on  earth.  Therefore  His  worship 


*  The  very  words  of  Robespierre  in  the  National  Assembly. 


258  A  UBER T  D UBA  YE T. 

shall  not  be  confined  within  the  narrow  limits  of  edi 
fices  erected  by  human  hands,  nor  shall  His  altars  be 
intrusted  to  any  privileged  set  of  Levites.  But,  on 
certain  days  during  the  year,  there  shall  be  grand  na 
tional  festivities  in  His  honor.  The  people  shall  meet 
under  the  broad  canopy  of  heaven  to  worship  the 
Creator,  and  under  the  presidency  of  the  State  au 
thorities  everywhere.  Hymns  shall  be  composed  by 
the  most  celebrated  poets,  and  sung  by  the  most  me 
lodious  voices.  There  shall  be  imposing  processions 
of  men,  women,  and  children,  crowned  with  emblem 
atic  wreaths  of  flowers.  The  chief  executive,  for  the 
time  being,  shall  be  the  high-priest,  and  shall  be  rep 
resented  in  the  same  functions  by  the  delegates  of  his 
authority  throughout  the  whole  extent  of  the  repub 
lic.  In  the  capital,  for  instance,  a  superb  altar  shall 
be  erected  on  the  most  beautiful  and  the  largest  pub 
lic  square  within  its  walls,  where  shall  be  enthroned 
the  goddess  of  reason,  as  the  visible  representative  of 
the  invisible  Deity." 

Labbe  Maury.  "  Perfect !  God  having  given  man 
a  partner  in  woman,  man,  in  his  turn,  presents  a  god 
dess  to  God  !  This  is  a  proper  exchange  of  recipro 
cal  civilities.  But  why  should  it  be  the  goddess  of 
reason,  rather  than  any  other  divinity  of  the  same  sex  ?" 

Robespierre.  "  Reason  being  that  faculty  of  the 
mind  by  which  it  distinguishes  truth  from  falsehood, 
and  good  from  evil,  and  which  enables  its  possessor 
to  deduce  correct  inferences  from  facts  and  from 
propositions,  must  emanate  from  God  alone ;  and, 
emanating  from  God,  it  necessarily  follows  that  it 
partakes  of  His  essence,  and  is,  by  His  will,  incarnated 
in  man.  In  worshiping  it,  we  worship  Him." 

L'abbe  Maury.     "  There  is  nothing  more  variable 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


259 


and  more  fallible  than  human  reason.  How  can  rea 
son,  therefore,  be  the  representative  of  divine  infalli 
bility  ?  For  instance,  my  reason  makes  me  a  monarch 
ist  ;  yours  makes  you  a  republican.  Which  is  right  ? 
What  permanent  form  shall  that  Protean  goddess  of 
reason  assume  ?  What  vagaries  of  hers  shall  be  our 
religion  ?  Is  it  on  the  virtue  proceeding  from  such  a 
religion,  whatever  it  may  be,  that  your  republic  is  to  be 
founded  ?  I  am  afraid,  Mr.  de  Robespierre,  that  your 
system  of  universal  virtue  will  be  as  abortive  as  your 
system  of  universal  education,  and  that  these  two  pil 
lars  of  your  contemplated  French  republic  will  be  as 
brittle  as  glass." 

Robespierre.  "  The  experiment,  however,  is  worth 
making." 

Labbe  Maury.  "  Well,  let  us  suppose  it  made. 
Equality,  fraternity,  and  liberty  are  in  the  ascendant, 
and  shine  like  the  Pleiads  in  the  firmament  of  France, 
shedding  their  sweet  influences  over  her  destinies. 
Incense  fumes  over  the  numerous  altars  of  the  god 
dess  of  reason,  the  visible  representative  of  God  on 
earth.  So  much  for  France.  But  what  of  her  colo 
nies,  where  two  races  confront  each  other  as  masters 
and  slaves,  as  whites  and  blacks  ?  " 

Robespierre.  "If  a  republic  should  ever  be  pro 
claimed  in  France,  on  that  day  the  chains  of  the  slave 
shall  be  broken  wherever  the  flag  of  liberty  will  float, 
and  there  shall  be  no  political,  civil,  or  social  distinc 
tion  between  the  white  and  the  black  race,  or  any 
other  race." 

Labbe  Maury.     "  It  would  ruin  our  colonies." 

Robespierre.  "  Perish  the  colonies  rather  than  a 
principle !  "* 


*  Words  attributed  to  Robespierre  in  the  National  Assembly. 


26o  *  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

Labbe  Maury.  "  Perish  the  colonies !  Shall  they 
be  sunk  to  the  bottom  of  the  ocean?" 

Robespierre.  "  Yes,  rather  than  tolerate,  one  single 
day,  the  institution  of  slavery,  or  any  distinction  of 
color." 

L'abbe  Maury.  "  To  drown  those  poor  negroes 
would  be  a  prompt  but  unpleasant  way  to  emancipate 
them.  They  might  prefer  their  present  condition  to 
such  a  summary  kind  of  introduction  to  freedom. 
Would  it  not  be  fair  to  consult  them  ?  " 

Robespierre.  "  No.  The  republic  would  consult 
principles,  and  not  men." 

Talleyrand.  "  I  have  been  an  attentive  and  grati 
fied  listener.  But  permit  me,  Mr.  de  Robespierre,  to 
say  that  too  much  zeal  often  defeats  the  object  it  has 
in  view.  There  must  be  moderation  in  all  things. 
Equality  and  fraternity  among  men,  liberty  for  all, 
and  universal  education,  are  excellent  sugar  plums, 
but  let  us  not  eat  too  much  of  them.  It  might  give 
us  a  sick  stomach." 

L'abbe  Maury.  "  Jean  Jacques  Rousseau,  who 
certainly  must  be  a  strong  authority  in  the  eye  of 
Mr.  de  Robespierre,  has  argued  that  the  arts  and 
sciences  have  been,  in  proportion  to  their  develop 
ment,  fatal  to  the  virtue  and  social  happiness  of 
nations.  Prometheus  stole  the  fire  of  civilization 
from  Heaven,  and  lighted  a  torch  which  led  man,  on 
the  road  of  progress,  farther  than  it  was  intended  by 
the  Gods  that  he  should  go.  Hence  his  punishment 
on  the  rock  where  he  was  chained  for  his  crime,  and 
where  his  entrails  were  devoured  by  the  vulture-beak 
of  eternal  remorse.  This  is  the  tale  of  paganism,  and 
therein  lies  a  deep  lesson.  Satan  said  to  our  first 
parents :  '  In  the  day  ye  eat  the  fruit  of  the  tree  of 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  26 1 

knowledge,  then  your  eyes  shall  be  opened,  and  ye 
shall  be  as  Gods,  knowing  good  and  evil.'  This  is 
the  tale  of  Christianity.  If  these  are  fables,  or  alle 
gories,  as  is  maintained  by  skepticism,  they  are  the 
fables  of  wisdom  and  the  allegories  of  truth.  Every 
man  to  his  trade,  is  the  proverbial  saying  of  the  prac 
tical  common  sense  of  all  nations.  You  must  re 
member,  Mr.  de  Robespierre,  the  words  of  Horace : 
ne  sutor  iiltrd  crepidam" 

Brissot.  "  Good  God  !  Here  is  a  Latin  quotation. 
You  know  that  I  do  not  understand  that  barbarous 
language,  and  yet  you  see  that  I  am  listening  with  all 
my  ears  to  your  very  interesting  sentiments.  You 
would  not  have  distressed  me  more  if  you  had  spoken 
English.  Pray,  tell  me  in  plain  French  what  means 
your  quotation?" 

Labb'e,  Maury.  "  It  means  that  the  cobbler  ought 
not  to  presume  to  rise  above  the  shoe  on  which  he  is 
at  work.  But  now,  it  seems,  the  cobbler  must  be  as 
well-educated  and  refined  as  anybody,  and  anybody 
must  be  as  good  and  as  well-informed  as  any  other 
body.  I  am  sick  of  all  this  cant.  There  will  ever  be 
in  this  world  the  poor  and  the  rich,  the  learned  and 
the  ignorant,  the  strong  and  the  weak  in  intellect  as 
well  as  in  body,  the  virtuous  and  the  wicked,  just  as 
there  is  always  prevailing  a  certain  proportion  of  rain 
and  sunshine.  Should  it  be  otherwise,  this  world 
would  not  be  what  it  is,  and  what  it  is  intended  to 
be.  Let  the  scale  of  education  correspond  with  the 
ascending  steps  of  the  ladder  of  society,  and  it  will 
work  well." 

Robespierre.  "  No,  Sir ;  let  there  be  the  same  edu 
cation  for  all,  and  the  same  opportunity  to  profit  by 


262  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

it,  or  not.  Why  should  not  the  whole  French  nation 
be  a  nation  of  gentlemen  and  ladies?" 

L'abbe,  Maury.  "  I  should  have  no  objection,  were 
it  not  that  all  washerwomen  having  become  ladies, 
and  all  cooks  and  valets  being  gentlemen,  I  might 
run  the  risk  of  not  having  my  clothes  washed,  my 
soup  made,  and  my  coat  dusted." 

Talleyrand.  "  It  would  be  a  dire  calamity  for  such 
sybarites  as  the  abbe  and  myself,  Monsieur  de  Robes 
pierre.  You  must  excuse  us  if  we  have  not  your 
frugality,  and  if  we  could  not  be  contented,  like  you, 
with  occupying  a  small  room  above  a  carpenter's 
shop,  dining  at  his  table,  and  enjoying  the  company 
of  such  humble  and  uncultivated  friends.  But,  so 
far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  will  throw  no  impediment  in 
the  way  of  your  experiment,  although  I  am  afraid 
that  you  are  levelling  down,  instead  of  levelling  up, 
and  that,  instead  of  raising  scullions  and  rag-pickers 
to  the  standard  of  gentlemen,  you  will  sink  gentle 
men  to  the  standard  of  the  former.  Oh  !  oh  !  What 
do  I  see  ?  Sir  Samuel  Romilly  entering  through 
yonder  door.  I  am  delighted.  He  must  have  lately 
arrived  from  England.  Brissot,  do  me  the  favor  not 
to  bite  him.  Put  your  anglophobia  into  your  pocket, 
as  long  as  he  is  under  my  roof.  Besides,  remember 
that  he  is  of  French  origin,  and  that  it  is  the  revoca 
tion  of  the  edict  of  Nantes  which  compelled  him  to 
be  born  an  Englishman.  It  is  not  his  fault."  Slightly 
bowing  to  the  group  which  he  left,  he  glided  slowly 
toward  his  English  friend,  for  he  never  was  known  to 
do  anything  with  eagerness  or  haste. 


CHAPTER   XIX. 

CONTRAST  BETWEEN  THE  ENGLISH  AND  FRENCH1 
NATIONAL  CHARACTER— MIRABEAU  REVIEWS 
CRITICALLY  SOME  OF  HIS  CONTEMPORARIES. 

WARMLY  greeting  Sir  Samuel  Romilly,  Talleyrand 
led  him  to  the  sofa  where  still  remained  Gouverneur 
Morris  and  Lafayette,  to  whom  he  introduced  that 
distinguished  member  of  the  English  bar.  After  an 
exchange  of  mutual  civilities,  he  was  earnestly  re 
quested  to  express  with  the  utmost  frankness  his 
opinion  on  the  works  of  the  National  Assembly,  and 
on  the  possibility  of  giving  to  France  such  institu 
tions  as  had  secured  the  liberties,  the  prosperity,  and 
the  glory  of  England.  Sir  Samuel  hesitated  a  good 
while,  but  yielding  at  last  to  pressing  solicitations,  he 
spoke  in  these  terms : 

"  You  have  decided  so  abruptly  on  so  many  ques 
tions,  that  I  do  not  know  which  of  them  I  can  take 
first  into  consideration.  Besides,  there  is  hardly  a 
question  which  is  completely  isolated.  Generally  a 
question  is  so  connected  with  others,  that  it  is  impos 
sible  to  pronounce  on  it  any  sound  judgment  without 
examining  it  in  relation  to  its  surrounding  satellites. 
The  great  fault  committed,  for  instance,  in  your 
National  Assembly,  was  to  work  separately  on  each 
portion  of  your  constitution  in  utter  forgetfulness  of 
the  other  parts,  and  then  to  try  afterward  to  dovetail 
them  into  one  harmonious  whole.  The  consequence 

(263) 


264  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

is,  that  you  have  produced  an  edifice  which  can  not 
be  expected  to  hang  together.  There  is  a  conspicuous 
want  of  regularity  and  adaptation  in  its  proportions. 
Some  of  the  columns  are  too  weak;  others  unneces 
sarily  strong.  It  is  an  incoherent  mass  which  will 
not  stand  the  slightest  shock.  It  is  a  gigantic  struct 
ure,  whose  foundations,  instead  of  being  deeply  laid, 
repose  merely  on  the  surface  of  the  soil  without  any 
reference  to  the  superincumbent  weight.  This  is  due 
to  what  may  be  called  an  organic  defect  in  your 
national  character.  In  an  Assembly  convened  for  the 
most  important  of  all  human  purposes,  there  was  in 
almost  every  member  an  extreme  impatience  to  bring 
himself  forward  and  to  move  faster  than  his  com 
petitors.  There  was  no  concert,  no  preparation  in 
that  body.  Every  one  was  for  himself,  and  strove  to 
surprise  the  Assembly  by  some  novel  and  unexpected 
proposition.  Everything  was  done  under  the  whip 
and  spur  of  the  moment.  Jealousies  and  personal 
rivalries,  leading  to  acrimonious  altercations,  were  the 
cause  of  a  total  want  of  preconcerted  action.  There 
was  no  pulling  together  to  attain  one  object.  But 
every  one  tugged  separately  at  his  own  little  rope,  at 
the  end  of  which  was  attached  some  favorite  hobby, 
which  was  to  be  dragged  on  the  stage  without  delay 
and  at  whatever  costs.  To  shine  exclusively  was  the 
aspiration  of  every  heart.  It  became  a  war  of  amour 
propre.  I  can  not  see  in  the  deliberations  of  the 
National  Assembly  any  evidence  of  patient  study  or 
meditation,  and  of  calm  discussion.  All  the  decrees 
of  that  body  seem  to  have  been  carried  at  the  sword's 
point,  as  if  your  orators  had  been  the  leaders  of  a 
storming  party.  Fury  pulled  down,  and  haste  was 
the  architect  that  built  up.  All  had  been  levelled  to 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  26$ 

the  ground  at  once,  without  hesitation  ;  and,  without 
pausing  to  reflect  on  the  lessons  imprinted  on  those 
ruins,  a  general  and  instantaneous  reconstruction  was 
attempted,  in  the  mere  wantonness  of  power,  by  the 
fanaticism  of  self-conceit.  Such  is  the  overweening 
opinion  evidently  entertained  by  the  Assembly  of 
their  own  wisdom  and  of  the  salutary  comprehensive 
ness  of  their  powers,  that  they  would,  no  doubt, 
readily  undertake  the  reconstruction,  not  only  of 
France,  but  also  of  all  the  nations  of  the  earth,  if 
permitted  to  do  so. 

"Allow  me  to  say  that  the  predominating  trait  in 
the  French  character  is  self-confidence.  With  a  few 
exceptions,  which  rather  prove  than  disprove  the 
general  rule,  there  is  nothing  which  a  member  of  the 
National  Assembly  thinks  that  he  can  not  do.  It  is 
impossible  to  imagine  a  body  of  men  more  sincerely 
convinced  that  they  are  all  legislators  of  the  highest 
order,  and  that  their  mission  is  to  repair  all  the  faults 
of  the  past,  to  extirpate  from  the  human  mind  the 
very  seeds  of  error,  and  to  secure  forever  the  hap 
piness  of  unborn  generations  in  future  ages.  It  struck 
me,  on  a  close  examination  of  your  proceedings, 
that,  when  venturing  on  grounds  that  required  the 
utmost  circumspection,  you  progressed  with  an  assur 
ance  which  showed  that  you  were  not  checked,  or 
even  retarded,  by  the  slightest  doubt  as  to  the  perfect 
appropriateness  of  every  one  of  your  acts.  The 
National  Assembly  seemed  to  assume  for  itself  in 
temporal  matters  as  much  of  infallibility  as  is  claimed 
spiritually  by  the  Church  of  Rome.  Any  opposition 
or  protest,  on  the  part  of  the  minority,  only  increased 
the  self-satisfaction  of  the  majority.  When  the  King 
ventured  to  send  some  modest  remonstrances  in  re- 


266  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

lation  to  their  mode  of  expressing  their  '  declaration 
of  rights,'  they  were  astonished  at  the  audacity  of 
those  ministers  who  had  gone  so  far  as  to  hazard  any 
criticism  on  any  one  of  their  acts,  and  Necker,  who 
was  the  author  of  those  remonstrances,  began  to  lose 
favor  with  them. 

"  Being  an  Englishman,  of  French  descent,  I  think 
that  I  can,  better  than  anybody  else,  compare  im 
partially  the  character  of  the  two  nations  in  a  legis 
lative  point  of  view.  I  am,  of  course,  very  familiar 
with  the  proceedings  of  the  British  Parliament,  and 
I  have  paid  the  most  minute  attention  to  all  the 
doings  of  the  National  Assembly  of  France.  There 
is  nothing,  in  my  sight,  more  striking  than  the  timid 
ity  and  modesty  of  the  English  in  legislation,  and 
the  boldness  and  self-confidence  of  the  French  on 
the  same  subject.  If  one  hundred  persons  were 
stopped  at  random  in  the  streets  of  London,  and  if  it 
was  proposed  to  them  to  assume  the  direction  of  the 
government,  I  am  certain  that  ninety-nine  would  re 
fuse.  But  were  the  same  question,  under  the  same 
circumstances,  put  in  the  streets  of  Paris,  I  should 
not  be  afraid  of  betting  that,  out  of  one  hundred, 
ninety-nine  would  accept  the  proposition." 

These  remarks  seemed  to  afford  infinite  amusement 
to  Gouverneur  Morris.  Sir  Samuel  noticed  it.  "  Mr. 
Morris,"  he  said,  "  I  think  that  I  am  paying  a  great 
compliment  to  General  Lafayette  and  to  Mr.  de  Tal 
leyrand.  There  are  very  few  Frenchmen  in  whose 
presence  I  would  venture  to  speak  so  frankly." 

"  Pray  go  on,"  replied  Morris.  "  America  loves 
France,  and  will  not  indiscreetly  repeat  the  whole 
some  truths  which  you  speak  to  her  noble  ally,  who, 
it  is  to  be  hoped,  would  profit  by  your  gentle  and 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  26/ 

well-meant  castigation,  if  not  confined  within  so  nar 
row  a  circle  of  listeners." 

"  What  is  remarkable,"  continued  Sir  Samuel,  bow 
ing  with  a  smile  to  Morris,  "  is,  that  so  many  of  the 
speeches  and  reports  made  in  the  National  Assembly, 
were  manufactured  outside  of  that  body.  Members 
did  not  scruple  to  read  speeches  which  they  had  not 
composed,  and  to  decorate  themselves  with  borrowed 
feathers,  to  the  certain  knowledge  of  hundreds.  No 
Englishman  could  have  been  found,  disposed  thus  to 
bask  openly  in  the  glaring  light  of  public  imposture. 
No  Englishman  of  any  reputation  whatever  would 
have  stooped  to  perform  the  humiliating  part  of 
mouthing  as  his  own,  before  an  audience,  the  compo 
sition  of  another.  Were  I  to  go  to  any  one  of  your  col 
leagues  and  suggest  to  him  some  glittering  idea,  he 
would  fling  it  at  once  from  the  tribune  into  the  As 
sembly,  without  pausing  one  minute  to  consider  the 
consequences.  Not  so  with  an  Englishman  ;  he  would 
be  afraid  of  exposing  himself.  He  would  carefully 
study  the  subject,  to  enable  himself  to  answer  objec 
tions,  and  not  to  be  easily  beaten  from  the  position  he 
might  take.  A  Frenchman  affirms  with  inconceivable 
thoughtlessness.  In  general,  he  attaches  very  little 
importance  to  an  assertion.  An  Englishman  reflects 
before  believing,  speaking,  and  acting.  Before  invit 
ing  the  judgment  of  the  public,  an  Englishman  will 
dry  up  all  the  sources  of  information  within  his  reach  ; 
he  will  look  for  authorities  by  which  to  be  backed, 
and  he  will  try  to  render  himself  master  of  all  the 
circumstances  of  the  case  which  he  makes  his  own. 
A  Frenchman  thinks  that  wit  alone  will  be  sufficient 
to  extricate  him  out  of  all  difficulties.  He  will  readily 
undertake  that  which  is  the  most  foreign  to  the  nat- 


268  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

ure  of  his  capacities.  Thus  Mirabeau  had  himself 
appointed  chairman  of  a  committee  on  mines,  when 
I  know  personally  that  his  ignorance  on  the  subject 
can  not  be  surpassed.  A  Frenchman  thinks  that  wit, 
not  common  sense,  is  the  pass-key  with  which  he  can 
open  every  lock.  An  Englishman  believes  that  knowl 
edge  and  practice  are  indispensable  to  insure  success. 
Once  a  French  gentleman  was  asked,  in  my  presence, 
if  he  could  perform  on  the  piano.  '  I  do  not  know,' 
he  replied,  '  for  I  have  never  tried ,  but  I  will  see 
what  I  can  do.'  This  sounds  like  a  comical  exaggera 
tion.  But  substitute  the  word  government  for  the 
word  piano,  legislation  for  music,  and,  instead  of  one 
French  gentleman,  you  will  have  twelve  hundred." 

Whilst  this  conversation  was  going  on,  in  a  distant 
corner  of  the  room  sat  Mirabeau  by  himself,  with  a 
scowl  on  his  brow,  which,  no  doubt,  warned  many  not 
to  trespass  on  the  solitary  musings  of  the  lion,  when 
evidently  in  an  unanr'able  mood.  Aubert  Dubayet 
was  not  deterred  by  it  from  approaching,  and,  sitting 
in  an  arm-chair  next  to  him,  said  with  an  affection 
ate  tone  :  "  You  do  not  seem  to  be  well,  Count." 

"  I  am  very  unwell,"  replied  Mirabeau.  "  My  di 
gestion  has  become  bad.  Ah  !  my  friend,  when  the 
first  functionary  in  the  establishment  is  disabled,  it  is 
time  to  close  it  up.  But  who  could  help  being  dys 
peptic,  when  looking  at  many  of  those  creatures 
who  are  parading  here?  Chamfort,  for  instance,  who 
affects  to  adorn  with  eccentricity  what  he  calls  the 
independence  of  his  character,  whilst  he  licks  the  heels 
of  birth,  wealth,  and  power.  He  wishes  to  pass  for  a 
misanthrope,  but  his  misanthropy  is  nothing  but 
wounded  pride  and  manifests  itself  by  epigrams,  each 
of  which  it  takes  him  two  months  to  sharpen.  He 


A  USER T  D USA  YET.  269 

has  the  audacity  to  say  that  the  knowledge  of  the 
world  has  bronzed  his  heart,  as  if  the  fellow  ever  had 
such  an  organ.  His  whole  body  is  nothing  but  a" 
mass  of  diseased  liver,  secreting  the  worst  kind  of 
bile,  and  nothing  else.  He  is  a  revolutionist,  because 
he  hates  the  superiorities  which  overshadow  his  little 
ness.  He  talks  like  an  austere  moralist,  when  his 
very  bones  are  rotting  from  corruption.  Whilst  others 
are  attacking  with  the  ponderous  ram  the  colossus  of 
despotism,  he  is  scratching  it  with  his  satirical  arrows. 
He  is  the  Thersites  of  the  revolution." 

Robespierre  happened  to  pass  before  them.  "  Look 
at  that  man,  Aubert  Dubayet,"  said  Mirabeau.  "  His 
friends  say  that  he  is  incorruptible.  Better  the  thirst 
for  gold  than  the  thirst  for  blood.  Beware  of  that 
compound  of  the  vampire  and  of  the  Aristides.  It 
is  not  that  I  do  not  appreciate  integrity.  On  the 
contrary,  I  have  always  thought  that,  if  probity  did 
not  exist,  it  would  have  to  be  invented  as  the  best 
means  of  success  in  this  world.*  But  this  man  smells 
of  the  charnel  house." 

"  Many  of  those  men  here  present  are  remarkable 
for  their  merit,"  said  Dubayet. 

"Yes,"  continued  Mirabeau,  "some  there  are;  but 
few  that  are  not  overrated.  Most  of  them  are  sophists, 
who  would  discuss  one  month  on  syllables,  and  who 
would  not  hesitate  to  destroy  in  one  night  a  mon 
archy  of  one  thousand  years  without  knowing  what  to 
put  in  its  place.  Others  there  are  who  are  rank  cow 
ards,  and  who,  after  having  unchained  the  bull,  are 
afraid  of  taking  him  by  the  horns.  They  are  moles, 


*  Dumont's  "  Recollections  of  Mirabeau." 


2/0  AUBERT  DUBAYET. 

fit  only  to  work  under-ground  and  upheave  it  without 
being  seen." 

Camille  Desmoulins  bowed  to  them  at  a  distance. 
"What  of  him  ?"  inquired  Dubayet. 

"  A  man  of  unripe  talent — very  green  for  the  pres 
ent,"  replied  Mirabeau.  "  He  shoots  always  beyond 
the  mark.  If  you  told  him  to  reward  a  lacquey  with 
a  glass  of  brandy,  he  would  give  him  the  whole  bot 
tle.  One  merit  he  has,  however :  it  is  to  make  a  good 
many  people  admire  him  when  he  speaks  of  things  of 
which  he  has  not  the  slightest  idea." 

A  ubert  Dubayet.  "I  see  Mr.  de  Lameth  convers 
ing  with  Mr.  de  Lafayette." 

Mirabeau.  "  A  well-matched  pair.  Lameth  is  one 
of  those  men  who  would  constitute  a  monarchy  with 
out  retaining  in  it  a  single  monarchical  element.  He 

is  a  bag  of  wind.  As  to  Lafayette have  you  read 

the  novel  of  "  Clarissa  "  by  Richardson  ?  Well,  if  you 
have,  you  are  acquainted  with  the  ineffably  stupid  per 
fection  of  her  lover,  Grandisson.  Now,  you  will  un 
derstand  why  I  call  that  man  Cromwell — Grandisson. 
He  wants  to  be  both,  and  it  will  ruin  him.  There 
are  times  when  virtue  is  out  of  place.  A  revolution 
is  a  pandemonium — it  admits  of  no  angel." 

Dubayet.  "  Who  is  that  man  bowing  so  low  to 
Mr.  de  Talleyrand  ?  " 

Mirabeau.  "  Do  you  not  know  him  ?  It  is  Bar- 
riere  de  Vieuzac — a  Gascon,  who  will  pipe  alternately 
for  monarchy,  or  liberty,  according  to  his  pay.  His 
natural  disposition  is  to  be  mean,  to  fawn,  and  to  flat 
ter.  He  would,  if  he  had  anything  to  gain  by  it,  write 
sonnets  to  the  hangman  in  the  impassioned  style  of  a 
lover.  There  is  no  crime  which  he  would  not  white 
wash  into  the  semblance  of  innocence.  He  would  in- 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


271 


elite  an  idyl  on  the  St.  Bartholomew.  Should  he  die, 
he  would  be  appointed  the  poet  laureate  of  the  court 
of  Pluto  ;  he  would  address  tender  epistles  to  the 
Furies,  soft  madrigals  to  Proserpina,  and  become  the 
Anacreon  of  hell." 

Dubayct.     "  Barnave  is  taking-  him  by  the  arm." 

Mirabeau.  "  I  am  sorry  for  it.  Barnave  ought  to 
have  more  respect  for  himself ;  for  Barnave  is  a  tree 
that  is  growing  to  be  one  day  the  mast  of  a  ship  of 
the  line."  * 

Dubayet.  "  Target  joins  them.  He  is  said  to  be 
a  distinguished  member  of  the  Assembly  for  talent 
and  eloquence." 

Mirabeau.  "  Nonsense.  He  is  swollen  with  words. 
His  eloquence  is  dropsical.  Tap  it,  and  you  will  have 
nothing  but  water." 

Dubayet.  "  Ho !  Ho !  Here  is  Volney,  with  his 
book  on  '  Ruins  '  reflecting  its  sombre  hue  on  his  face. 
What  an  atrabiliary  look!  How  thin  and  dry  he  is  ! 
He  puts  me  in  mind  of  some  piece  of  parchment  ex 
humed  from  Pompeii." 

Mirabeau.  "  A  thorough  radical.  He  is  one  of  those 
men  who  make  me  exclaim  :  What  an  admirable  thing 
would  democracy  be,  if  there  were  no  democrats  !  It 
is  laughable  to  see  him  shake  hands  with  L'abbe  La- 
mourette,  who  is  also  an  author,  having  published  a 
book  entitled  '  Meditations  of  my  Soul.'  Pretty 
meditations  they  are  !  He  is  such  an  apostle  of  mod 
eration  in  everything  that  he  recommends  not  to  be 
lieve  even  in  God  more  than  is  necessary.  Ha !  ha  ! 
I  see  L'abbe  Sieyes,  the  would-be  Mohammed  of  the 
revolution,  retiring  with  D'Espremenil,  the  Crispin — 


*  Dumont's  "  Recollections  of  Mirabeau." 


2/2  A  UBER T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

Catiline,  and  with  Camus,  the  ultra  radical,  and  ultra 
rigid  Cato  of  modern  times,  who,  on  account  of  hi? 
incandescent  nose,  is  well  named  the  red  flag.  Good 
night  to  the  worthy  trio.  Will  you  dine  with  me  to 
morrow,  Dubayet  ?  " 

Dubayet.  "  I  thank  you,  Count.  I  dine  with  Mr. 
de  Necker." 

Mirabeau.  "  Good.  Study  him,  for  he  is  a  celebrity. 
You  will  find  him  to  be  a  clock  which  is  always  be 
hind  time.  He  does  not  know  the  epoch  he  is  living 
in.  Such  men  are  pigmies  in  a  revolution.  Malle- 
branche,  the  philosopher,  saw  nothing  out  of  God  ; 
Necker,  the  banker  and  would-be  statesman,  sees 
nothing  out  of  Necker.  As  to  France,  he  has  con 
centrated  it  into  the  stock-jobbing,  financiering  shops 
of  Rue  Vivienne" 

Dubayet.  "  I  am  to  meet  at  his  house  some  of  the 
other  members  of  the  Cabinet — Claviere,  for  instance." 

Mirabeau.  "  I  like  him.  He  has  the  heart  of  a 
child  and  the  head  of  a  man.  But  he  needs  a  regu 
lator.  Left  to  himself,  he  always  varies." 

Dubayet.  "  I  am  also  to  meet,  I  understand,  the 
Count  de  Clermont  Tonnerre,  who  is  called  the  Pitt 
of  France." 

Mirabeau.  "  The  appellation  may  be  deserved.  It 
is  questionable,  however,  whether  Pitt  would  be  flat 
tered  to  be  called  the  Clermont  Tonnerre  of  England. 
But  I  forget  myself  here.  Dubayet,  what  time  is  it 
by  yonder  clock?  As  late  as  two  in  the  morning  !  I 
must  go;  come  with  me;  I'll  drop  you  down  at  your 
lodgings.  As  to  myself,  I'll  have  to  spend  the  rest 
of  the  night  in  correcting  proof-sheets  ;  fora  pamphlet 
of  mine  must  make  its  appearance  to-morrow.  By- 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


273 


the-by,  Aubert,  do  you  know  that  I  am  the  first 
proof-reader  in  the  kingdom,  and  yet  nobody  gives 
me  any  credit  for  it.  May  you,  my  friend,  be  better 
appreciated  whilst  living  !  Justice  will  be  done  to  me 
only  after  my  death." 


12' 


CHAPTER  XX. 

A  PORTRAIT  OF  MIRABEAU  BY  HIMSELF— HE  AN- 
NOUNCES  IN  THE  NATIONAL  ASSEMBLY  THE 
DEATH  OF  FRANKLIN. 

SEVERAL  days  had  elapsed  since  Talleyrand's  even 
ing  reception,  and  Aubert  Dubayet  had  nowhere  met 
Mirabeau,  who  had  not  even  made  his  appearance  at 
the  National  Assembly.  He,  therefore,  rang  at  the 
door  of  his  illustrious  friend  and  sent  in  his  card.  He 
was  instantly  admitted,  and  found  Mirabeau  in  his 
bedroom,  wrapped  up  in  a  loose  morning-gown.  He 
looked  much  fatigued  and  worn  out.  Round  his  neck 
were  bloody  bandages. 

"  I  am  glad  to  see  you,"  he  said  to  Dubayet.  "  I 
had  caused  myself  to  be  denied  to  everybody.  Not 
at  home  was  the  word ;  but  an  exception  has  been 
made  for  you,  my  friend.  You  are  not  mixed  up  with 
all  our  miserable  intrigues  and  our  halting,  one-leg 
ambitions,  and  there  is  something  refreshing  in  your 
honest  nature  that  soothes  my  irritated  nerves.  Your 
person  must  be  impregnated  with  some  charm  bor 
rowed  from  the  virgin  wilderness  of  your  American 
cradle.  I  wonder  if  all  Louisianians  are  like  you  ? 
Ah  !  dear  Dubayet,  I  am  dying.  You  see  that  I  have 
been  leeched  copiously.  My  blood  is  inflamed ;  it 
rushes  up  to  my  head,  and  affects  my  sight,  which  is 
often  much  impaired.  I  am  compelled  to  be  bled  fre 
quently.  If  I  believed  in  slow  poisons,  I  should  be 
(274) 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


275 


disposed  to  suspect  that  some  drug  of  that  sort  has 
been  administered  to  me.  I  am  perishing  by  inches  ; 
a  secret  fire  consumes  me  inwardly." 

"  Faith  !  "  exclaimed  Dubayet,  "  considering  your 
way  of  living,  you  must  be  a  salamander,  not  to  be 
already  consumed  to  ashes !  " 

"  I  will  reform,"  replied  Mirabeau.  "  I  am  sick  of 
this  abominable  world.  Before  long,  I  will  renounce 
ambition,  kick  away  with  my  toe  the  temptation  of 
sinful  pleasure,  which  has  become  a  burden  to  me, 
and  live  only  for  philosophy,  agriculture,  and  friend 
ship  in  a  Tusculum  of  my  own." 

Aubert  Dubayet  smiled  as  he  remembered  the  old 
saying : 

"  The  devil  was  sick  ;   the  devil  a  monk  would  be  ; 
The  devil  got  well ;  devil  of  a  monk  was  he." 

Mirabeau  went  on:  "That  stupid  National  Assem 
bly  !  I  have  an  indigestion  of  them ;  they  are  killing 
me.  The  blockheads !  They  have  assumed  to  gov 
ern  the  King,  instead  of  governing  through  him.  But 
soon  neither  he  nor  they  will  govern  ;  a  vile  faction 
will  seize  on  the  government,  and  will  cover  the 
whole  surface  of  France  with  a  flood  of  horrors.  Were 
I  to  descend  into  the  tomb,  my  death  would  be  the 
signal  for  factious  pigmies  to  advance  to  the  front 
rank.  Robespierre,  Potion,  and  a  multitude  of  others, 
who  are  mere  shadows  in  the  background  as  long  as 
I  remain  on  the  horizon,  will  become  great  men  if  I 
disappear.  There  are  in  me  inspired  anticipations  of 
the  future  ;  I  feel  at  times  that  there  is  in  my  bosom 
something  of  the  old  spirit  of  prophecy.  I  assure 
you,  without  any  presumptuous  boasting — I  assure 
you,  because  it  is  so — that  there  is  in  me  a  political 


276  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

sagacity,  a  certain  prevision  of  coming  events,  a  knowl 
edge  of  men  and  things,  which  amounts  almost  to  a 
supernatural  intuition.  I  speak  of  myself  as  impar 
tially  as  I  would  of  a  person  dead  a  thousand  years 
ago.  The  secrets  of  the  human  heart  lie  open  before 
me ;  there  is  no  mask  which  a  glance  of  mine  does 
not  penetrate.  This  infallibility  of  my  second  sight, 
which  is  as  sure  as  positive  revelation,  serves  me  bet 
ter  than  would  any  multitude  of  spies  in  the  camp 
of  the  enemy.  I  tell  you  that  those  braying  asses 
whom  I  now  check  in  their  mad  career,  will  ere  long 
inaugurate  ferocious  measures  and  butcheries,  with 
out  even  having  the  execrable  honor  of  a  civil  war. 
When  I  shall  be  dead,  Dubayet,  do  not  believe  the 
calumnies  that  will  be  circulated  to  blacken  my 
memory.  Although  vicious  in  many  respects,  I  ad 
mire  intensely  what  is  good,  moral,  and  pure.  I  have 
the  highest  esteem  for  energetic  and  virtuous  charac 
ters,  a  sort  of  enthusiasm  for  all  that  is  grand,  and 
that  enthusiasm  has  never  been  weakened  by  the  con 
sciousness  that  I  have  of  my  own  imperfections  and 
errors.  My  soul  is  like  a  mirror,  which  may  be  mo 
mentarily  tarnished  by  the  breath  of  depravity,  but 
which  soon  resumes  its  bright  and  polished  surface. 
My  conduct  is  often  in  contradiction  with  my  profes 
sions,  not  because  I  am  capable  of  the  meanness  of 
falsehood,  but  because  I  am  carried  away  by  irresist 
ible  passions.  My  reason  is  luminous,  but  sometimes 
clouded  by  the  fumes  of  the  evil  instincts  of  the  flesh. 
The  original  elements  of  my  nature  were  sound  and 
pure,  but  a  tempestuous  wind  has  occasionally  swept 
over  them,  lashed  them  into  fury,  and  the  ship  in 
which  morality  was  embarked,  broke  more  than  once 
her  sheet-anchors.  There  is  much  of  everything  in 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  277 

men  ;  much  that  is  good,  and  much  that  is  bad.  But 
is  it  not  true,  my  friend,  be  it  said  without  vanity, 
that  no  one  can  know  me  without  being  under  the 
impression  forever,  and  beyond  the  possibility  of 
forgetfulness,  that  he  has  stood  before  the  magnifi 
cent  grandeur  of  the  fallen  angel — he  that  was  once 
the  brightest  among  the  hosts  of  Heaven?  Will  it  not 
be  admitted,  whatever  may  be  said  of  me  as  a  private 
man,  that,  as  a  public  one,  I  was  born  to  fill  with  my 
immense  activity  and  personality  any  sphere,  however 
large  it  might  be,  in  which  I  could  possibly  be  placed 
by  the  caprice  of  circumstance  ?  " 

Mirabeau  paused,  and  his  face  assumed  an  expres 
sion  of  deep  sadness.  After  a  minute  or  two  of  silence, 
he  said  :  "  Much  talk  there  is  of  my  venality.  If  some 
people  are  to  be  believed,  I  have  literally  set  my 
self  up  at  auction,  and  the  hammer  of  corruption  ad 
judicates  me  to  the  highest  bidder.  If  I  have  been  so 
long  in  the  market,  it  seems  to  me  that  I  ought  to 
have  gained  enough  to  have  bought  a  kingdom,  and  I 
do  not  understand  how  it  is  that  I  have  remained  so 
poor,  after  having  had  all  the  kings  of  the  earth  and 
their  treasures  at  my  disposal.  I  admit  that  I  have 
not  been  very  delicate  in  money  matters.  But  my 
pride  has  been  at  least  a  good  substitute  for  honesty, 
if  I  lack  the  latter.  I  would  at  any  time  have  flung 
out  of  my  windows  anybody  who  should  have 
dared  to  make  to  me  a  humiliating  proposition.  Be 
tween  you  and  me,  I  have  lately  accepted  a  pension 
from  the  King  and  from  his  brother,  the  Count  of 
Provence,  because  I  regard  myself  as  an  agent  in 
trusted  with  their  interests,  and  I  take  their  money  to 
govern  them,  but  not  to  be  governed.  If  Spain  and 
England  have  bought  me,  as  reported,  what  has  be- 


278  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

come  of  the  immense  sums  which  I  must  have  re 
ceived?  How  is  it  that  I  shall  die  insolvent?  It  is 
true  that  I  live  in  a  state  of  opulence,  but  it  is  a  politi 
cal  necessity,  as  much  as  a  matter  of  taste  with  me. 
If  I  am  supplied  with  money  by  the  King,  I  spend  it 
for  his  service.  I  can  not,  therefore,  be  deemed  guilty 
of  the  baseness  of  cupidity.  I  am  nothing  else,  after 
all,  than  the  banker  of  the  Crown." 

"  What !  "  exclaimed  Dubayet,  with  undisguised 
amazement,  "  you  have  been  won  over  to  the  King?  " 

''Yes,"  replied  Mirabeau.  "  It  is  time  to  stop  the 
red-hot  wheels  of  the  revolution.  I  am  for  the  liberty 
of  the  people,  and  not  for  their  dictatorship.  I  am 
for  order,  and  not  for  anarchy.  The  monarchy  must 
be  saved,  or  France,  and  even  Europe,  will  be  deluged 
with  blood.  The  constitution  concocted  by  the  Na 
tional  Assembly  is  a  monstrosity.  There  is  too  much 
of  a  republic  in  it  for  a  monarchy,  and  too  much  of  a 
monarchy  for  a  republic.  It  is  neither  the  one,  nor 
the  other;  the  king  in  it  is  a  surplusage.  In  it  the 
semblance  of  royalty  is  visible  everywhere ;  but  where 
is  its  substance  and  reality  to  be  found  ?  I  want  no 
bastard  government,  no  mongrel  constitution." 

"  This  new  enterprise  of  yours,"  observed  Aubert 
Dubayet,  "  seems  to  me  as  difficult  as  if  you  attempted 
to  stop  the  Falls  of  Niagara." 

"  It  is  not  demonstrated  to  me  that  I  could  not," 
replied  Mirabeau.  "  I  have  not  seen  them  ;  but  I  see 
what  is  going  on  around  me,  and  I  know  what  I  can 
do.  Let  the  King  listen  to  me,  and  I  will  so  shape 
this  revolution  as  to  make  it  a  blessing  for  the  nation 
and  for  himself." 

Here  his  valet,  Teutch,  entered,  and  informed  him 
that  a  deputation  of  the  people  wished  to  address  him. 


A  UBER  T  D UBA  YET.  279 

"  No,"  shouted  Mirabeau  fiercely.  "  Tell  them 
that  I  am  sick  in  bed  ";  and,  turning  to  Dubayet,  he 
said  to  him  with  a  sardonic  laugh :  "  It  is  no  excuse, 
but  the  truth.  I  am  sick  of  them,  sick  to  death.  By 
the  immortal  Gods,  do  those  fellows  imagine  that,  after 
having  taken  royalty  by  the  throat,  crushed  it  to  the 
ground,  and  set  my  foot  on  its  breast,  I  am  to  be  the 
valet  of  king  multitude  !  The  impudent  knaves  !  I 
can  not  but  laugh  at  the  idea.  Haw  !  haw  !  haw  !  A 
good  joke.  Do  you  know  the  language  of  the  popu 
lace  to  me — to  me,  in  whose  veins  runs  the  blood  of 
the  Guises  and  of  the  Caramans  ?  Hear  how  the  gib 
bering  monkeys  talk :  '  Speak  loud,  Mirabeau  ;  say  this, 
or  say  that,  if  thou  wishest  to  be  applauded  and  tap 
ped  encouragingly  on  the  shoulder.  Play  the  trage 
dian,  Mirabeau  ;  quick,  ascend  the  stage  ;  we  want  an 
explosion  of  wrath  or  hatred  on  thy  part ;  if  thou 
valuest  our  approbation  wake  up,  Mirabeau  ;  lash  thy 
sides  and  roar  like  the  lion,  or  scream  like  the  eagle,  or 
thunder  like  Jove  ;  beg,  weep,  laugh,  praise,  or  scold, 
act,  or  do  not  act,  as  our  passions  or  whims  command  ; 
uproot,  break,  and  kill,  or  caper  and  blow  thy  nose  at 
our  beck  like  a  child,  if  thou  wishest  to  retain  thy 
popularity.'  I  have  enough  of  this,  forsooth  !  I  was 
not  made  to  obey  the  hatless,  shoeless,  shirtless,  and 
howling  would-be  master  who  issues  his  edicts  from 
the  gutters  of  the  streets,  and  who  thinks  that  he  does 
me  a  favor,  when  he  permits  me  to  wear  powder  in 
my  hair,  to  ride  in  a  carriage,  and  to  have  behind  that 
carriage  a  lacquey  in  livery.  No,  no  ;  it  is  irrevocably 
settled  in  my  mind.  The  Count  de  Mirabeau  brings 
back  his  allegiance  to  the  King,  the  knight  swears 
fealty  to  the  Queen,  and  the  strong  man  flies  to  the 
rescue  of  the  woman  who  claims  his  protection." 


2  80  *  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

The  American  minister  happened  to  be  announced 
and  was  cordially  received  by  Mirabeau. 

"  Count,"  said  Morris,  "  I  have  just  received  bad 
news  from  America,  and  you  are  the  first  to  know  it. 
Franklin  is  dead." 

Mirabeau  jumped  up  from  the  arm-chair  in  which 
he  had  languidly  seated  himself,  and  rang  violently. 
Teutch  rushed  in.  "  Order  my  coach,  quick  ;  powder 
my  hair;  give  me  my  coat;  haste,  haste,"  said  hurri 
edly  his  impetuous  master.  "  I  want  to  be  the  first 
to  announce  the  death  of  Franklin  to  the  National 
Assembly.  You  will,  my  friends,  both  of  you,  accom 
pany  me,  I  hope." 

In  a  short  time  they  entered  the  hall  where  sat  that 
body.  Mirabeau  ascended  the  tribune.  "How's  that? 
How's  that  ?  "  was  heard  on  all  sides.  "  Where  do  you 
come  from  so  abruptly  and  unexpectedly?  You  have 
no  right  to  speak ;  it  is  not  your  turn.  You  interfere 
with  the  order  of  the  day.  Order  of  the  day !  Order 
of  the  day!"  vociferated  the  majority  of  the  members, 
who  evidently  were  not  disposed  to  show  at  that  mo 
ment  any  favor  to  the  orator.  Mirabeau  remained  at 
the  tribune,  calm  and  imposing.  The  tumult  was  in 
creasing,  when  he  said  in  his  most  imperious  and  sten 
torian  tone  :  "  Silence  !  and  listen  to  me.  Franklin  is 
dead !  "  The  silence  of  the  tomb  immediately  pre 
vailed,  and  Mirabeau  continued  in  these  words: 

"  Franklin  is  dead  !  That  great  man  who  gave  lib 
erty  to  America,  and  whose  genius,  by  its  discoveries, 
has  shed  such  a  flood  of  light  on  the  progress  of  civil 
ization  in  Europe,  has  returned  to  the  bosom  of  the 
Deity. 

"  The  sage  whom  two  worlds  claim  as  their  own, 
who  ranks  as  high  in  the  history  of  sciences  as  in  the 


A  UBER T  D UBA  YET.  28 1 

history  of  empires,  occupies  unquestionably  a  most 
exalted  position  among  the  human  race. 

"  Long  enough  have  political  and  official  notifica 
tions  been  given  of  the  death  of  those  who  were  great 
only  in  their  funeral  orations.  Long  enough  has  the 
etiquette  of  courts  proclaimed  hypocritical  mournings. 
Nations  ought  to  grieve  only  for  the  loss  of  their  bene 
factors.  Their  representatives  ought  to  recommend 
to  their  homage  none  but  the  heroes  of  humanity. 

"The  Congress  has  ordered  that,  in  the  fourteen 
Confederate  States,  a  mourning  of  two  months  shall 
be  observed  for  the  death  of  Franklin  ;  and  America, 
at  this  moment,  pays  this  tribute  of  veneration  and 
gratitude  to  one  of  the  fathers  of  her  constitution. 

"  Would  it  not  be  worthy  of  you,  gentlemen,  to 
join  in  this  truly  religious  demonstration  and  to  par 
ticipate  in  that  homage  which  is  thus  solemnly  ren 
dered  to  the  rights  of  man,  and  to  the  philosopher  who 
has  the  most  contributed  to  their  propagation  on 
earth?  Antiquity  would  have  raised  altars  to  that 
vast  and  powerful  genius  who,  for  the  benefit  of  man 
kind,  embracing  the  universe  within  the  grasp  of  his 
mind,  knew  how  to  conquer  tyranny  on  earth  and  sub 
jugate  to  his  will  the  thunderbolt  of  Heaven.  Free 
and  enlightened  France  owes  at  least  a  testimonial  of 
souvenir  and  regret  to  the  memory  of  one  of  the  great 
est  men  who  ever  served  philosophy  and  liberty. 

"  I  propose  that  it  be  decreed,  that  the  National 
Assembly  shall  go  into  mourning  during  three  days, 
for  Benjamin  Franklin." 

This  proposition  was  adopted  by  a  unanimous 
acclamation. 

A  few  days  after,  Aubert  Dubayet,  according  to  a 
pressing  request  which  he  had  received,  called  on 


282  ^  UBER  T  D UBA  YE  T. 

Mirabeau,  whom  he  found  studying  attentively  the 
map  of  France,  and  marking  with  a  pencil  several 
points  on  its  Northern  frontier.  "  I  need  you,"  said 
Mirabeau,  "  as  you  must  have  inferred  from  the  tone  of 
my  note.  I  have  a  most  confidential  communication  to 
make  to  you,  and  a  service  to  ask  at  your  hands.  But, 
before  doing  so,  tell  me  if  you  have  any  political  in 
formation  to  communicate." 

"  No,"  replied  Aubert  Dubayet.  "  I  have  nothing  of 
special  significance  to  relate.  But  I  think  that  the  sky 
is  darkening.  I  have  just  been  conversing  with  Gen 
eral  Lafayette.  He  speaks  of  the  multiplying  dangers 
that  menace  the  progress  of  reform  in  France.  I  in 
quired  what  were  those  dangers.  He  answered  :  '  The 
refugees  hovering  about  the  frontiers,  intrigues  in 
most  of  the  despotic  and  aristocratic  cabinets,  our 
regular  army  divided  into  Tory  officers  and  undisci 
plined  soldiers,  licentiousness  among  the  people  not 
easily  repressed,  the  capital,  that  gives  the  tone  to  the 
empire,  distracted  by  anti-revolutionary  or  factious 
parties,  the  Assembly  fatigued  by  hard  labor  and  very 
unmanagerable.'  But  he  added  :  '  however,  according 
to  the  popular  motto,  fa  ira,  it  will  go  on.'  "* 

Mirabeau  shrugged  his  shoulders:  "Poor  Lafay 
ette!  Honest  simpleton!"  he  muttered.  "Will  the 
scales  never  fall  from  his  eyes?  fa  ira  will  not  do. 
fa  ira  is  not  a  popular  motto,  but,  what  is  worse,  is 
a  popular  song.  Aubert,  beware  of  popular  songs  in 
a  revolution !  The  devil  is  always  at  the  bottom  of 
them  all.  Does  not  Lafayette  know  what  are  the 
words  which  come  after  $a  ira  ?  If  he  does  not,  I  will 
tell  him  they  are :  Les  aristocrates  a  la  lantcrne.^  It 


*  Lafayette  to  Washington. 

t  The  aristocrats  to  the  lamp-post ! 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  283 

is  there  that  he  will  dangle,  if  he  does  not  take  care. 
Does  he  not  know  that  faction,  at  this  very  hour,  is 
predominant  in  Paris,  that  liberty  and  equality  begin 
to  be  the  only  watchwords  of  the  people,  and  that  the 
Jacobin  Club  has  set  up  a  journal  which  is  spreading 
the  spirit  of  revolt  and  preparing  a  scaffold  a  la  Stuart 
for  royalty?  " 

Dubayet.  "  Lafayette  has  lent  me  this  letter  re 
cently  received  by  him  from  General  Washington, 
and  which  I  have  read  with  much  interest.  The 
President,  who  seems  to  be  well  informed  of  the 
condition  of  things  here,  is  alarmed  for  the  safety  of 
his  friend." 

Mirabeau.  "  Well  may  he  be  !  But  let  me  hear 
what  he  says." 

Dubayet.  Reading :  "  I  assure  you,"  writes  Wash 
ington  to  Lafayette,  "  that  I  have  often  contemplated, 
with  great  anxiety,  the  danger  to  which  you  are  per 
sonally  exposed  by  your  peculiar  and  delicate  situa 
tion  in  the  tumult  of  the  time,  and  your  letters  are 
far  from  quieting  that  friendly  concern.  But  to  one 
who  engages  in  hazardous  enterprises  for  the  good  of 
his  country,  and  who  is  guided  by  pure  and  upright 
views,  as  I  am  sure  is  the  case  with  you,  life  is  but  a 
secondary  consideration. 

"  The  tumultuous  populace  of  large  cities  are  ever 
to  be  dreaded.  Their  indiscriminate  violence  pros 
trates,  for  the  time,  all  public  authority,  and  its  con 
sequences  are  sometimes  extensive  and  terrible.  In 
Paris,  we  may  suppose  these  tumults  are  peculiarly 
disastrous  at  this  time,  when  the  public  mind  is  in  a 
ferment,  and  when,  as  is  always  the  case  on  such  oc 
casions,  there  are  not  wanted  wicked  and  designing 
men  whose  element  is  .confusion,  and  who  will  not 


284  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T- 

hesitate  in  destroying  the  public  tranquillity  to  gain 
a  favorite  point." 

Mirabeau.  "General  Washington  has  a  hundred 
times  more  sagacity,  more  common  sense,  and  brains 
than  General  Lafayette." 

Dubayet.  "  I  have  also  been  shown  a  letter  from 
Jefferson,  who  says  that  the  popular  cause  prevails 
only  with  a  part  of  Washington's  Cabinet.  He  ex 
presses  ardent  wishes  that  the  French  revolution  may 
be  carried  to  its  utmost  results.  He  writes  that  the 
permanence  of  the  American  revolution  leans,  in  some 
degree,  on  that  of  France,  and  that  a  failure  here 
would  be  a  powerful  argument  to  prove  that  there 
must  be  a  failure  in  America.  He  maintains  that  the 
success  of  the  French  revolution  is  necessary  to  stay 
up  their  own,  and  prevent  its  falling  back  to  that  kind 
of  half-way  house — the  English  constitution*  These 
are  his  very  expressions." 

Mirabcau.  "  Better  the  half-way  house  than  the 
mad-house.  Your  Jefferson,  were  he  here,  would 
soon  lead  us  to  the  latter,  if  permitted.  You  see, 
Aubert  Dubayet,  how  fully  justified  I  am  in  taking 
the  step  on  which  I  have  resolved.  The  monarchy 
must  be  saved.  There  is  no  time  to  be  lost." 

At  that  moment,  a  gentle  tap  was  heard  at  a  door 
that  led  into  inner  apartments.  "Come  in,"  said  Mi- 
rabeau,  and  Tintin  Calandro  entered  with  his  violin 
in  his  hand.  He  looked  somewhat  confused  when  he 
saw  Dubayet,  with  whom,  however,  he  shook  hands 
cordially. 

"Monsieur  le  comte"  he  said  to  Mirabeau,  "  I  see 
that  you  are  engaged,  and  that  the  moment  is  not 


*  Irving "s  "  Life  of  Washington,"  p.  91,  vol.  v. 


A  UBER T  D UBA  YET.  285 

opportune  for  our  musical  lesson.  I  will  call  again," 
and  he  turned  to  depart.  Mirabeau  sprang  on  him, 
and,  holding  him  by  the  arm,  exclaimed  :  "  Stop, 
stop,  man  !  Don't  be  in  such  a  hurry.  Drop  all  dis 
guise  at  once;  it  is  not  necessary.  Is  not  Aubert 
Dubayet  your  friend?  He  is  mine,  and  I  trust  him 
entirely.  I  have  even  summoned  him  here,  that  he 
may  know  all.  He  must  help  us ;  speak,  then,  with 
out  reserve.  What  says  the  Princess  de  Lamballe? 
Does  the  Queen  assent  to  all  my  conditions,  and  will 
she  grant  me  an  audience?" 

"Yes,"  replied  Tintin  Calandro.  "She  will  meet 
you  secretly  and  alone,  to-morrow  night,  at  twelve 
o'clock,  in  the  garden  of  Versailles,  at  the  foot  of  the 
statues  of  Laocoon  and  his  sons  struggling  against  the 
twin  serpents.  I  am  commissioned  to  bring  back 
your  answer." 

"  Fly,  then,"  said  Mirabeau,  "  and  tell  the  Queen 
that  nothing  but  death  shall  prevent  my  being  in 
time  at  the  spot  designated."  Then,  turning  to  Du 
bayet  :  "  Dear  friend,  you  must  be  my  companion.  You 
alone  I  can  trust  on  this  momentous  occasion.  At 
nine  o'clock  to-morrow  evening,  two  horses,  as  fleet 
as  the  wind,  shall  be  in  attendance  outside  of  the 
gates  of  Paris,  at  the  most  secluded  place  which  I  can 
select,  to  avoid  observation,  and  which  I  shall  let  you 
know.  Come  armed  to  the  teeth  under  your  cloak. 
We  shall  be  masked,  and  must  speed  to  Versailles 
through  by-ways.  He  who  will  attempt  to  penetrate 
through  our  disguise  must  die." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

A  MIDNIGHT  INTERVIEW  IN  THE  GARDEN  OF  VER 
SAILLES  BETWEEN  MIRABEAU  AND  THE  QUEEN 
— DEATH  OF  MIRABEAU. 

AT  twelve  precisely,  on  the  night  of  the  following 
day,  a  postern  of  the  palace  of  Versailles  opened  on 
the  side  facing  the  garden,  and  a  woman,  wrapped  in 
a  long  veil,  came  out.  It  was  Marie  Antoinette, 
Queen  of  France.  She  was  followed  by  two  compan 
ions  of  her  own  sex;  one  was  the  Princess  de  Lam- 
balle,  and  the  other  the  Princess  de  Polignac.  At  a 
short  distance  behind  them  walked  a  young  man  of 
distinguished  appearance.  In  his  belt  hung  a  pair  of 
silver-mounted  pistols,  and  he  carried  in  his  hand  a 
sheathed  sword,  as  if  he  held  himself  ready  to  draw  it 
at  the  instant  it  might  be  wanted.  He  was  the  Baron 
de  Vaudreuil,  a  descendant  of  the  Marquis  de  Vaud- 
reuil,  one  of  the  former  Governors  of  Louisiana.  His 
romantic  and  respectful  devotion  for  the  Queen  is 
related  in  the  memoirs  of  the  epoch.  The  party 
moved  rapidly  toward  a  round  point  or  spot  of  small 
dimensions,  fenced  in  by  a  circular  row  of  shrubbery, 
to  which  led  several  alleys  or  avenues  of  dense  hedges, 
six  feet  high,  from  which  emerged  at  regular  intervals 
some  tall  trees,  like  those  towers  which  overtop  the 
walls  of  a  fortified  city.  In  the  center  of  that  round 
spot  rose  a  monument  that  commemorated  the 
tragic  fate  of  Laocoon  and  his  sons,  as  related  in  the 
(286) 


A  UBEK  T  D USA  YE  T.  287 

immortal  verses  of  Virgil.  It  had  been  lately  erected 
by  one  of  the  most  celebrated  sculptors  of  the  time, 
who,  with  the  permission  of  the  good-natured  King, 
had  selected  this  place,  where  he  thought  his  work 
would  be  seen  to  the  best  advantage.  The  pedestal 
was  large,  and  apparently  of  massive  Italian  marble* 
from  Carrara.  The  Queen  alone  entered  this  open 
spot.  Her  attendants  disappeared  behind  a  thick 
bush  of  roses  and  myrtles.  Marie  Antoinette  had 
hardly  reached  the  foot  of  the  monument,  when  a 
man  issued  from  behind  the  circular  mass  of  foliage 
which  enveloped  the  spot.  He  advanced  slowly,  hat 
in  hand.  When  within  a  short  but  respectful  distance 
from  the  Queen,  after  having  bowed  profoundly,  he 
stood  erect,  calm,  motionless,  and  evidently  awaiting 
to  be  addressed.  The  Queen  at  first  had  lost  her 
self-possession  when  facing  the  terrible  Titan  whose 
blows  had  almost  destroyed  a  monarchy,  the  basis 
of  which  had  been  cemented  by  a  thousand  years. 
She  blushed,  then  became  deadly  pale,  and  a  visible 
shudder  passed  over  her  whole  frame.  She  soon 
mastered  her  emotion,  however,  and  said,  in  a  voice 
that  was  but  slightly  tremulous  : 

"  Mr.  de  Mirabeau,  your  services  have  been  accept 
ed,  and,  with  the  King's  consent,  I  have  granted  the 
secret  audience  which  you  desired." 

Mirabeau.  "I  am  inexpressibly  grateful,  Madam, 
for  your  Majesty's  condescension.  I  have  anxiously 
wished  for  this  opportunity  to  present  to  your  Majesty 
the  homage  of  a  devoted  subject,  and  to  receive  from 
the  lips  of  the  Queen  the  assurance  that  my  services 
are  accepted  on  the  conditions  which  I  have  thought 
necessary  to  indicate,  for  the  sake  of  the  royal  family, 
for  the  permanence  of  the  monarchy,  for  the  pros- 


288  A  UBER T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

perity  of  France,  and  also  in  token  of  the  confirma 
tion  by  the  court  of  the  liberties  of  the  people." 

Marie  Antoinette  drew  from  her  boscm  a  paper 
which  she  handed  to  Mirabeau,  saying:  "  It  is  signed 
by  the  King  and  by  myself,  as  you  have  stipulated." 
At  this  moment  a  sense  of  her  humiliation  seemed  to 
have  come  over  her,  and  to  rouse  her  into  a  fit  of  un 
controllable  passion.  Her  eyes  flashed,  she  drew  her 
self  up,  and,  forgetful  of  all  prudential  considerations, 
she  thus  spoke,  in  a  haughty  tone :  "  And  what 
guaranties  will  the  Count  de  Mirabeau  give  to  the 
King  and  Queen  of  France  in  exchange  for  those 
which  he  has  exacted  of  his  sovereigns?  Shall  we  be 
satisfied  with  his  word  of  honor  as  to  the  fulfilment 
of  his  obligations?  Are  his  antecedents  such  as  to 
forbid  distrust  ?  "  All  the  wounded  pride  of  her  race 
had  gathered  on  the  brow  of  the  daughter  of  Maria 
Theresa,  and  of  a  long  line  of  imperial  Caesars. 

"  Madam,"  replied  Mirabeau,  "  I  understand  and  ap 
preciate  all  the  force  of  the  reproach  implied  in  your 
Majesty's  question.  There  is  nothing  so  terrible  and 
so  unjust  as  the  exaggerations  of  the  judgments  of 
public  opinion.  There  is  nothing  that  could  have 
subjected  me  to  a  more  excruciating  torture  than  has 
done  the  severity  of  that  tribunal.  I  have  long  felt 
that,  if  I  had  enjoyed  personal  consideration  for  un 
blemished  virtue,  the  whole  of  France  would  have 
been  at  my  feet.  There  are  times,  and  at  this  present 
moment  more  than  ever  before,  when  I  would  cheer 
fully  pass  through  an  ocean  of  fire  to  purify  the  name 
of  Mirabeau.  No  language  can  express  the  agony 
which  the  allusions  of  your  Majesty  have  inflicted  on 
my  heart.  Alas !  I  but  too  cruelly  expiate  the  errors 
of  my  youth  !  " 


A  UBER T  D USA  YET.  289 

The  eyes  of  Mirabeau  became  suffused  with  tears, 
and  two  big  scalding  drops  ran  down  his  lion  face. 
Marie  Antoinette  saw  his  emotion,  her  woman's  heart 
softened,  and  she  said  in  .a  gentle  tone:  "Mr.  de 
Mirabeau,  the  faults  of  the  past  may  not  be  irrepar 
able,  and  suitable  amends  may  be  made  for  them. 
We  are  assured  that  God  forgives,  when  the  prayer 
of  true  repentance  rises  up  to  His  footstool.  But  let 
us  only  think  of  the  present  and  of  the  future.  I 
hope  that,  now  at  least,  all  your  aspirations  are  noble." 

Mirabeau.  "  I  wish  that  your  Majesty  could  read 
my  heart.  You  would  see  that,  if  I  destroy  the  ab 
solute  power  which  the  King  has  inherited,  it  is  not 
from  base  motives,  but  to  make  him  a  greater  and 
happier  monarch,  satisfy  the  irresistible  exigencies  of 
the  epoch,  establish  on  a  solid  basis  the  just  liberties 
of  the  people,  and  increase  the  glory  and  prosperity 
of  France.  My  whole  ambition  is  to  be  the  trusted 
prime  minister  of  the  most  powerful  sovereign  of 
Europe,  reigning  over  a  free  and  grateful  nation." 

Marie  Antoinette.  "  I  understand.  You  wish  to  be 
the  Pitt  of  France." 

Mirabeau.  "  I  wish  to  be  more  than  that,  Madam. 
My  most  intense  aspiration  is  to  eclipse,  if  possible, 
all  the  past  ministers  of  State.  I  feel  myself  strong 
enough  to  gather  around  me,  without  envy  and  with 
out  fear,  the  ablest  men  of  France  in  a  luminous 
phalanx.  I  wish  to  encircle  my  brow  with  a  halo  of 
such  effulgence  as  to  dazzle  the  whole  world,  whilst 
that  brow  shall  still  bow  humbly  to  the  throne  of  St. 
Louis." 

Marie  Antoinette.    "Then,   if   I    comprehend  your 
views,  Mr.  de   Mirabeau,  your  plan  is  to  introduce 
into  France  the  government  of  Great  Britain  ?  " 
13 


290  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

Mirabeau.  "With  such  modifications  as  may  be 
required.  The  tottering  throne  can  only  be  trade 
steady  by  resting  it  on  a  House  of  Commons,  and  a 
vigorous  Peerage  selected  from  our  highest  nobility. 
Oh !  Madam,  would  to  God  that  I  could  persuade 
your  Majesty  to  give  up  absolutely  all  distrust  of  me, 
to  enter  frankly  into  the  broad  and  straight  road  of 
reform,  and  set  aside  forever  all  the  prejudices  of  the 
past !  Is  not  the  rank  of  the  sovereigns  of  Great 
Britain  sufficiently  exalted?  Is  not  their  position  far 
safer  and  more  enviable  than  that  of  despots  whom 
hidden  perils  ever  threaten?" 

Marie  Antoinette.  "You  have  in  your  possession 
the  written  assurance  that  your  sovereigns  bind  them 
selves  to  follow  you  as  their  guide ;  and  now,  before 
we  part,  what  advice  do  you  give?" 

Mirabeau.  "  The  King,  although  apparently  free, 
is  in  reality  in  a  state  of  captivity.  He  must  escape 
from  such  a  position.  Let  him  secretly  prepare  every 
thing  for  his  departure;  let  him  go  to  Metz,  or  to 
some  other  strong  place  where  he  has  generals  who 
can  answer  for  some  faithful  regiments.  As  soon  as 
he  shall  have  reached  his  destination,  let  him  issue  a 
proclamation  making  an  appeal  to  France ;  let  him 
publish  to  the  world  all  that  he  has  so  benevolently 
done,  and  what  he  yet  intends  to  do ;  and  let  him 
depict  in  strong  language  the  crimes  of  the  capital ; 
let  him  annul  all  the  decrees  of  the  National  As 
sembly,  on  the  ground  of  their  being  contrary  to  the 
instructions  given  by  the  electors  to  their  representa 
tives,  and  founded  on  a  manifest  usurpation.  Let 
him  dissolve  the  Assembly,  and  order  immediately 
new  elections.  Let  him,  at  the  same  time,  instruct 
all  his  military  commandants  to  maintain  their  author- 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  29 1 

ity  at  whatever  costs,  and  the  high  courts  of  justice 
to  resume  their  functions  and  proceed  with  the  trial 
of  all  rebels.  Let  him  make  an  energetic  appeal  to 
the  whole  nobility  and  summon  them  together,  around 
him,  for  the  defense  of  the  throne.  I  will  remain  in 
Paris,  and  watch  the  movements  of  the  Assembly. 
As  soon  as  the  royal  proclamation  shall  have  reached 
us,  I  will  move  that  all  the  supporters  of  a  constitu 
tional  monarchy  depart,  to  meet  again,  with  his 
Majesty's  sanction,  and  until  their  successors  are 
elected,  at  the  place  where  the  King  shall  have  chosen 
his  residence.  Should  a  portion  of  the  Assembly  re 
main  in  session  in  Paris,  and  should  the  city  support 
their  disobedience,  all  its  communications  with  the 
provinces  must  be  interrupted,  until  it  is  reduced  by 
famine.  The  clergy,  who  have  been  stripped  of  all 
their  possessions,  will,  no  doubt,  exert  all  their 
spiritual  influence  on  the  people,  and  the  bishops 
must  be  invited  to  meet  and  protest  in  a  body  against 
the  sacrilegious  usurpations  of  the  Assembly."* 

Marie  Antoinette.  "  This  would  be  the  signal  for 
civil  war." 

Mirabeau.  "  Permit  me  to  say  that  your  Majesty 
is  greatly  in  error.  You  see  only  the  surface  of 
things,  and  you  have  no  idea  of  the  degree  of  attach 
ment  which  the  whole  of  France  still  retains  for  her 
King.  France  is  essentially  monarchical.  At  the  mo 
ment  when  the  King  shall  be  free,  the  National  As 
sembly  will  be  reduced  to  nothing.  With  him  in  their 
midst,  they  constitute  a  colossus  of  strength ;  with 
out  him,  they  will  be  a  mountain  of  sand.  At  the 
instigation  of  the  Duke  of  Orleans,  there  may  be 


*  This  was  really  at  one  time  Mirabeau 's  plan. 


292 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


some  movements  attempted  at  the  Palais  Royal,  but 
they  will  be  crushed  in  the  bud.  As  to  Lafayette, 
should  he  pretend  to  play  the  part  of  Washington, 
and  put  himself  at  the  head  of  the  national  guard, 
he  will  deserve  to  perish,  and  his  fate  will  soon  be 
decided."* 

Marie  Antoinette.  "  I  will  faithfully,  Count,  carry 
your  message  to  the  King." 

Mirabeau.  "  Will  you,  Madam,  do  me  the  favor  to 
tell  him  further,  that  I  have  destroyed  the  paper  which 
I  hold  in  my  hand,  and  that  I  humbly  beg  pardon  for 
having  asked  any  pledge  to  guarantee  the  sincerity  of 
your  Majesty  and  of  the  King."  Suiting  his  action 
to  his  words,  Mirabeau  tore  into  minute  pieces  and 
flung  away  the  sheet  of  paper  which  had  been  de 
livered  to  him  by  Marie  Antoinette. 

The  Queen's  face  flushed  with  a  deep  feeling  of 
gratification,  and,  looking  benignantly  at  Mirabeau, 
she  said  with  emotion  :  "  It  is  nobly  done,  Count ;  it 
is  nobly  done.  From  this  day  forth,  I  have  the  most 
implicit  confidence  in  your  loyalty.  Adieu  ;  may 
God  protect  us  all ! "  And,  with  a  gracious  smile, 
she  presented  her  hand  to  Mirabeau.  He  knelt  on 
one  knee  and  kissed  it  reverentially.  When  he  rose, 
she  had  vanished  behind  a  cluster  of  jessamines  and 
other  odoriferous  plants.  Mirabeau  appeared  as  if 
transfigured  with  hope  and  pride.  He  looked  up  to 
the  lowering  sky,  where  glimmered  in  the  West  one 
solitary  star,  and,  shaking  aloft  his  fist  with  enthusi 
asm,  he  exclaimed  :  "  By  yonder  globe  of  fire  which 
has  witnessed  this  scene,  and  by  my  own  good  soul,  I 
swear  to  save  her,  or  die."  As  he  uttered  these  words, 
and  hurried  away  in  the  direction  from  which  he  had 


*  Dumont's  "  Recollections  of  Mirabeau." 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  293 

come,  the  star  had  been  smothered  in  a  dark  cloud 
which  passed  over  its  face.  The  vault  of  heaven, 
without  the  twinkling  of  one  single  ray  of  light, 
looked  like  a  funeral  pall,  and  the  wind  sighed  mourn 
fully  through  the  deserted  garden. 

Hardly  a  minute  had  elapsed  after  Mirabeau's  de 
parture,  when  one  of  the  marble  slabs  of  the  pedestal 
of  Laocoon's  monument  slided  inside  on  silent 
grooves,  and  two  men  came  out.  One  was  masked, 
the  other  was  not,  and  presented  the  appearance  of 
a  shrivelled-up  old  man,  with  a  pale  and  pinched  face, 
and  with  small,  round,  dark  eyes,  sparkling  with  the 
most  malignant  expression  of  triumph.  The  man 
with  the  mask,  pointing  in  the  direction  which  Mira- 
beau  had  taken,  said  fiercely :  "  She  shall  not  be 
saved,  and  you  shall  die,  Mr.  de  Mirabeau." 

"  Amen !  "  ejaculated  his  companion.  "  What  an 
excellent  idea  your  Royal  Highness  had  when  you 
bribed  that  sculptor  and  obtained  of  him  to  erect 
his  monument  on  this  spot,  to  which  leads  a  secret  sub 
terranean  passage  only  known  to  few,  and  to  construct 
this  pedestal  so  as  to  make  it  a  safe  place  of  conceal 
ment  and  observation!  Hidden  in  it,  I  have  fre 
quently  made  for  you,  Monseigneury  important  dis 
coveries,  but  none  to  be  compared  to  the  one  we  have 
procured  to-night — and  so,  he  shall  die !  When  ?  " 

"As  soon  as  possible,"  replied  his  companion. 
"  Have  you,  my  dear  Italian  chemist,  distilled  one  of 
those  poisons  which  leave  no  traces?" 

"  Better  than  that.  I  have  one  which  produces 
the  effects  of  a  well-known  disease,  and  which  there 
fore  will  give  rise  to  no  suspicion  of  foul  play." 

"  Excellent  !  It  is  worth  twenty  thousand  livres, 
and  you  shall  have  them." 


294  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

The  Italian  grinned  a  horrid  smile.  Both  re- 
entered  the  pedestal ;  the  marble  slab  noiselessly 
resumed  its  place;  the  monumental  serpents  above, 
swelling  with  wrath  and  venom,  seemed  to  tighten 
their  folds  around  their  expiring  victims,  and  to  lift 
over  them  more  fearfully  their  hideous  heads,  with 
an  expression  of  living  reality. 

On  the  day  following  this  interview  between  the 
Queen  and  Mirabeau,  Aubert  Dubayet  had  been  com 
pelled  to  leave  Paris  for  Grenoble  in  Dauphine,  where 
he  had  been  recalled  by  his  private  affairs.  He  was 
absent  only  two  weeks,  but,  when  he  returned,  Mira 
beau  was  dead,  and  the  whole  of  France  was  in 
mourning.  That  fatal  event  had  taken  place  on  the 
2d  of  April,  1791.  The  body  of  the  great  orator  and 
statesman  was  opened,  and  the  report  of  physicians 
was,  that  he  had  died  of  an  abdominal  inflammation 
produced  by  excesses.  His  sufferings  had  been  ter 
rible  ;  the  agony  of  the  convulsions  into  which  he 
was  frequently  thrown,  was  so  intense,  that  he  called 
and  prayed  for  death.  He  said  to  his  friends  :  "  I  will 
endure  these  torments  as  long  as  you  may  have  the 
slightest  hope  of  curing  me.  But,  if  you  have  not, 
why  should  you  not  have  the  humanity  to  put  a  term 
to  tortures  of  which  you  can  have  no  conception  ?  " 
In  those  rare  moments  when  he  was  free  from  the 
extreme  pains  which  racked  his  body,  his  serenity 
and  self-possession  were  admirable.  He  believed  his 
end  to  be  at  hand  and  inevitable,  and  spoke  of  it 
calmly.  He  had  affectionate  and  pleasant  things  to 
say  to  the  anxious  visitors  who  crowded  his  bed 
room.  His  intense  passion  for  glory  never  left  him 
to  the  last.  "  I  regret,"  he  said,  "  that  I  shall  not  have 
the  opportunity  to  deliver  in  the  National  Assembly 


A  UBER T  D UBA  YET.  295 

a  speech  which  I  had  prepared  on  the  slave  trade. 
There  was  a  passage  in  it,  which,  I  think,  would  have 
produced  an  immense  effect.  It  began  thus  :  '  O  ye, 
representatives  of  a  free  people,  advocates  of  the 
rights  of  man,  and  apostles  of  liberty  throughout  the 
world,  cast  your  eyes  on  the  almost  endless  expanse 
of  water  which  separates  America  from  Africa,  and 
follow  with  me  on  the  Atlantic  that  ship  loaded 
with  captives,  or  rather  that  long  black  coffin,  in 
which  a  lingering  death  has  assumed  its  most  hideous 
form.'  "  To  Tintin  Calandro,  who  could  not  tear  him 
self  away  from  the  death-bed  of  one  whom  he  con 
sidered  as  the  only  hope  of  the  throne,  he  whispered : 
"  Tell  the  Princess  de  Lamballe,  tell  the  Queen  to 
fly  with  the  King  and  royal  family.  Let  them  lose 
no  time  in  providing  for  their  safety.  The  monarchy 
is  dead,  and  descends  with  me  into  the  grave."  Hav 
ing  fallen  asleep,  he  was  awakened  by  a  great  tumult 
in  the  street.  He  asked  for  the  cause  of  it,  and  was 
told  that  the  noise  came  from  the  immense  multitude 
who  had  gathered  before  his  house  and  in  its  en 
virons,  and  who  eagerly  inquired  how  he  really  was. 
"  Tell  them,"  he  said,  "  that  I  have  always  lived  for 
the  people,  and  that  it  is  sweet  to  me  to  die  in  their 
midst  and  with  their  sympathies."  Minute  guns 
were  heard.  "  What !  "  exclaimed  he,  "  have  the  ob 
sequies  of  Achilles  already  commenced?"  When  he 
lost  the  faculty  of  speech,  he  wrote  on  a  scrap  of 
paper :  "  Do  not  think,  my  friends,  that  the  feeling  of 
death  is  so  painful."  And,  after  a  little  while,  he 
wrote  again :  "  To  sleep."  This  was  the  last  act  of 
Mirabeau's  life — this,  his  last  word  on  this  side  of 
the  grave.  Genius,  passion,  ambition — all  restless 
things  ! — had  suddenly  gone  to  sleep  forever — at  least 
in  this  world. 


296  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE T. 

His  funeral  was  a  gorgeous  pageantry.  The  whole 
National  Assembly  attended  it  in  a  body ;  there 
was  an  immense  concourse  of  national  guards  and  of 
civilians.  The  procession  was  three  miles  long,  and 
it  took  four  hours  to  pass  at  any  given  point.  The 
entire  population  of  Paris  was  in  the  streets,  at  the 
windows,  and  on  the  tops  of  houses.  Even  trees 
were  loaded  with  human  beings.  The  National  As 
sembly  decreed  for  his  body  the  honors  of  a  tomb  in 
the  Pantheon,  a  building  which  had  been  consecrated 
to  the  memory  of  all  those  citizens  who  should  de 
serve  well  of  their  country.  Two  years  after,  it  was 
ignominiously  torn  away  from  its  sepulchre  by  the 
same  people,  whose  idol  he  had  been  when  living, 
and  who  now  desecrated  the  last  remnants  of  the 
former  object  of  their  worship,  on  their  suspecting 
that,  shortly  before  his  death,  Mirabeau  had  deter 
mined  to  support  the  royal  cause.  O  vanity  of  van 
ities !  But  who  will  profit  by  the  lessons  of  history? 
Who  ever  remembers,  when  ascending  in  triumph  to 
the  Capitol,  that  there  is,  as  Mirabeau  himself  had  said  : 
"but  one  step  from  it  to  the  Tarpeian  Rock"?  Was 
it  Lafayette,  that  other  idol  of  the  people,  who  fled 
from  his  own  army  to  save  his  life,  and  surrendered  for 
protection  to  the  Austrians,  of  whose  hospitality  he 
had  a  taste  in  the  fortress  of  Olmutz,  from  which  the 
friend  of  Washington  was  so  very  near  being  success 
fully  rescued  by  the  courage  and  perseverance  of  two 
Americans,  Dr.  Eric  Bollman,  and  Francis  K.  Huger 
of  South  Carolina? 

"  I  envy  you  the  consolation  you  had  in  attending 
our  illustrious  friend  during  his  last  illness,"  said 
Aubert  Dubayet,  the  first  time  he  met  Talleyrand 
after  Mirabeau's  death. 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  297 

"  You  would  have  admired,"  replied  Talleyrand, 
"his  consistency.  He  was  true,  to  the  last,  to  the 
character  which  he  had  always  sustained.  This  is  the 
privilege  of  strong  men.  He  saw  that  he  was  an 
object  of  general  attention,  and  he  never  ceased  to 
speak  and  to  act  like  a  great  and  noble  actor  on 
the  national  theatre.  He  superbly  dramatized  his 
death.  A  short  time  before  he  died,  conquering  the 
intense  torture  which  he  suffered,  he  had  his  papers 
brought  to  him  and  selected  one  that  contained  a 
speech  on  testaments.  '  This/  he  said  to  me,  '  is  my 
last  contribution  to  the  labors  of  the  National  As 
sembly.  I  make  you  the  depository  of  it.  Read  it 
from  the  tribune  in  my  name,  when  I  shall  be  no 
more.  It  is  my  legacy  to  the  Assembly.  It  will  be 
singular  to  hear  a  speech  on  testaments  by  one  who 
made  his  own  the  day  before.' 

"  What  is  quite  as  singular,"  continued  Talleyrand, 
"  is,  that  to  my  certain  knowledge,  be  it  said  between 
you  and  me,  that  speech  is  the  production  of  one 
Mr.  Raybaz,  and  not  of  Mirabeau.  It  is  written  in 
a  style  which  is  not  his,  and  it  is  really  very  remark 
able  that,  even  in  death,  he  should  have  retained  his 
mania  to  deck  himself  in  borrowed  feathers,  when  he 
must  have  had  the  consciousness  of  having  acquired 
so  much  personal  glory,  and  when  his  reputation  was 
such  that  he  could  well  have  afforded  to  scorn  to  en 
rich  himself  with  the  spoils  of  others.  But  the  world, 
after  all,  is  nothing  but  a  vast  conglomeration  of  im 
posture." 

Shortly  after,  Louis  XVI.  attempted  to  fly  with  his 

family,  as  advised  by  Mirabeau,  and  it  is  but  too  well 

known  how  he  was  brought  back   from   Varennes, 

where  he  was  arrested.     The  news  of  that  event  was 

13* 


298  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

received  in  the  United  States  with  antagonistic  feel 
ings  on  the  part  of  many.  Jefferson  thought  that 
the  King  had  been  guilty  of  a  breach  of  faith,  and  all 
his  innate  hatred  of  royalty  was  aroused. 

"  Such  are  the  fruits  of  that  form  of  government," 
he  wrote  to  Dubayet,  "which  heaps  importance  on 
idiots,  and  which  the  Tories  of  the  present  day  are 
trying  to  preach  into  our  favor.  It  would  be  unfor 
tunate,  were  it  in  the  power  of  any  one  man  to  defeat 
the  issue  of  so  beautiful  a  revolution.  I  hope  and 
trust  that  it  is  not,  and  that,  for  the  good  of  suffering 
humanity  all  over  the  earth,  the  revolution  will  be 
established  and  spread  all  over  the  world."  * 

Washington  was  differently  impressed.  Jefferson 
was  the  first  to  communicate  to  him  that  event,  whilst 
he  was  holding  one  of  his  levees,  and  observed  in  the 
same  communication  to  Dubayet :  "  I  never  saw  him 
so  dejected  in  my  life."  Washington  himself  de 
clared  that  he  remained  for  some  time  in  painful  sus 
pense  as  to  what  would  be  the  consequences  of  that 
event.  Ultimately,  when  the  news  arrived  that  the 
King  had  accepted  the  constitution  from  the  hands  of 
the  National  Assembly,  he  hailed  the  event  as  prom 
ising  happy  consequences  to  France,  and  to  mankind 
in  general ;  and  what  added  to  his  joy  was  the  noble 
and  disinterested  part  which  his  friend  Lafayette  had 
acted  in  that  great  drama.  "  The  prayers  and  wishes 
of  the  human  race,"  he  wrote  to  the  Marquis,  "  have 
attended  the  exertions  of  your  nation ;  and  when 
your  affairs  are  settled  under  an  energetic  and  equal 
government,  the  hearts  of  all  good  men  will  be  sat 
isfied." 


*  Irving's  "  Life  of  Washington." 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


299 


Delighted  with  such  a  letter,  Lafayette  had  handed 
it  over  to  Aubert  Dubayet  for  perusal,  who  carried  it 
home  and  who  happened  to  be  reading  it,  when  Tal 
leyrand  dropped  in.  Dubayet  took  pleasure  in  com 
municating  it  to  his  distinguished  friend,  who  seemed 
to  enjoy  its  contents  in  a  very  particular  manner ;  for, 
taking,  with  an  appearance  of  luxurious  satisfaction, 
a  sort  of  recumbent  position  on  the  sofa  on  which  he 
had  seated  himself,  and  resting  his  head  against  the 
adjacent  wall,  he  closed  entirely  his  habitually  half- 
closed  eyes,  and  indulged,  to  the  intense  surprise  of 
Aubert  Dubayet,  in  a  short  fit  of  peculiarly  dry  and 
cynical  cachinnation — a  rare  circumstance  in  such  a 
man.  Mephistopheles  could  not  have  laughed  other 
wise.  "  What  is  in  that  letter  which  can  provoke  this 
hilarity  ?  "  inquired  Dubayet. 

"  I  beg  to  be  excused,  my  good  friend,"  replied 
Talleyrand,  resuming  that  composed  and  imperturba 
ble  face  for  which,  among  other  things,  he  became 
famous,  "  but,  in  the  secret  history  of  men,  there  is 
sometimes  between  appearances  and  realities  some 
thing  exceedingly  ludicrous.  Now,  listen.  This  is 
strictly  between  you  and  me.  I  have  been  lately 
ransacking  the  archives  of  the  State  Department,  and 
here  is  an  extract  which  I  have  made  of  a  letter  ad 
dressed  by  our  friend  Lafayette,  on  the  i8th  of  July, 
1779,  from  Havre,  to  Mr.  de  Vergennes.  'The  idea/ 
he  says  to  that  minister,  '  of  a  revolution  in  Canada 
seems  very  attractive  to  every  good  Frenchman,  and 
should  political  reasons  condemn  it,  you  will  confess, 
Monsieur  le  comte,  we  can  yield  to  them  only  by  re 
sisting  the  first  impulses  of  the  heart.  The  advan 
tages  and  disadvantages  of  such  a  scheme  would  de 
mand  a  larger  discussion  than  I  can  enter  into.  Is  it 


300 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


better  to  leave  to  the  Americans  an  object  of  fear  and 
jealousy  in  the  vicinage  of  an  English  colony,  or  shall 
we  set  free  our  oppressed  brethren,  in  order  to  find 
again  and  at  the  same  time  among  them,  our  ancient 
supply  of  furs,  our  former  trade  with  the  Indians,  and 
all  the  profits  of  our  original  settlements,  without  ex 
posing  ourselves  as  of  yore  to  expenses  and  depreda 
tions?  Shall  we  put  in  the  scales  of  the  New  World 
a  fourteenth  State  which  will  be  always  attached  to 
France,  and  which,  by  its  situation,  would  secure  to 
us  a  great  preponderance  in  the  dissensions  that  will 
one  day  divide  America?  There  is  a  great  variety  of 
sentiment  on  this  subject.' 

"  Now,"  said  Talleyrand,  rising  and  smiling  a  sar 
donic  smile,  "  methinks  that  the  partisans  of  America 
were  not  exactly  as  thoroughly  Americanized  as  they 
wished  to  appear,  and  not  as  friendly  inwardly  as  they 
were  outwardly,  and  that  Washington,  if  he  knew 
what  conflict  of  opinions  existed  at  the  time  among 
his  allies,  as  to  which  thorn  it  would  have  been  most 
to  the  interest  of  France  to  plant  in  the  side  of  his 
projected  republic,  might  allow  his  gratitude  to  cool 
down  to  a  lower  degree  of  temperature,  and  not  take 
so  deep  an  interest  in  our  great  drama,  and  in  the  es 
tablishment  here  of  an  '  energetic  and  equal  govern 
ment,'  which  he  might  in  the  end  not  find  as  pleasant 
to  deal  with  and  as  '  satisfactory  '  as  he  expects.  But 
he  shall  not  know  it,"  and  deliberately  folding  the 
sheet  of  paper  which  he  held  in  his  hand,  he  put  it  in 
his  side-pocket,  and,  after  buttoning  his  coat  over  it, 
he  bowed  to  Dubayet,  and  glided  out  of  the  room, 
saying  :  "Au  prochain  revoir,  mon  cker" 

This  incident  added  a  darker  shade  to  the  habitual 
gloom  of  Dubayet's  mind.  He  knew  that  Washing- 


A  UBER  T  D  USA  YE  T.  30 1 

ton,  who  entertained  such  fervent  hopes  of  the  new 
government  of  France,  was  somewhat  weary  of  the 
one  he  had  established  at  home.  There  were  irrecon 
cilable  and  angry  discussions  in  his  Cabinet ;  some  of 
its  members  threatened  to  resign  ;  symptoms  of  dis 
satisfaction  had  lately  shown  themselves  among  the 
people,  far  beyond  what  he  would  have  expected  ;  and 
to  what  height  those  might  arise,  in  case  of  too  great 
a  change  in  the  administration,  could  not  be  foreseen. 
Jefferson,  who  never  allowed  the  opportunity  to  es 
cape,  when  he  had  a  chance,  to  fling  a  stone  at  his 
great  rival,  Alexander  Hamilton,  maintained  that 
those  discontents  were  produced  by  the  administra 
tion  of  the  treasury  department.  "A  system  has 
been  contrived,"  he  said,  "  for  deluging  the  States 
with  paper  money  instead  of  gold  and  silver,  for  with 
drawing  our  citizens  from  the  pursuits  of  commerce, 
manufactures,  buildings,  and  other  branches  of  useful 
industry,  to  occupy  themselves  and  their  capitals  in  a 
species  of  gambling  destructive  of  morality,  and 
which  has  introduced  its  poison  into  the  Government 
itself." 

Aubert  Dubayet,  to  whom  these  remarks  had  been 
addressed,  communicated  them  to  Gouverneur  Morris, 
who  observed:  "Jefferson,  in  his  fits  of  jealousy  or 
spleen,  may  say  what  he  pleases ;  but  he  has,  not 
withstanding,  a  keen  appreciation  of  the  sterling 
merit  of  Hamilton,  for  he  once  said  to  me :  '  Hamil 
ton  is  a  man  of  acute  understanding,  disinterested, 
honest,  and  honorable  in  all  private  transactions ; 
amiable  in  society  and  duly  valuing  virtue  in  private 
life  ;  yet  so  bewitched  and  perverted  by  the  British 
example,  as  to  be  under  thorough  conviction  that 


3Q2  4  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

corruption  is  essential  to  the  government  of  a  na 
tion.'  "  * 

"This  puts  me  in  mind,"  replied  Dubayet,  "of  a 
conversation  which  I  heard,  when  in  America,  at  Jef 
ferson's  own  table,  between  Hamilton  and  Adams, 
after  the  cloth  was  removed.  Conversation  had  be 
gun  on  other  matters,  and,  by  some  circumstance, 
led  to  the  British  constitution,  on  which  Adams  ob 
served:  'Purge  that  constitution  of  its  corruption, 
and  give  to  its  popular  branch  equality  of  representa 
tion,  and  it  would  be  the  most  perfect  constitution 
ever  devised  by  the  wit  of  man.'  Hamilton  paused, 
and  said :  '  Purge  it  of  its  corruption,  and  give  to  its 
popular  branch  equality  of  representation,  and  it 
would  become  an  impracticable  government ;  as  it 
stands  at  present,  with  all  its  supposed  defects,  it  is 
the  most  perfect  government  which  ever  existed.'  "  f 


*  Jefferson's  Anas.  t  Jefferson's  Works,  vol.  ix.,  p.  96; 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

THE  JACOBIN  CLUB — MARAT  AND  CATHELINEAU — 
THE  SANS  CULOTTE  AND  THE  VENDEAN — JEF 
FERSON'S  LETTER  HELPING  MARAT. 

THE  National  Assembly,  having  been  dissolved,  was 
succeeded  by  what  was  called  the  Legislative  Assem 
bly.  Aubert  Dubayet  was  elected  to  that  body,  and 
took  an  active  part  in  its  deliberations.  One  day, 
when  his  friend,  Gouverneur  Morris,  was  compliment 
ing  him  on  the  wise  and  moderate  course  which  he 
pursued  in  the  Assembly,  and  particularly  on  his 
vigorous  and  able  defense  of  General  Lafayette,  who 
had  been  violently  attacked  by  the  lovers  of  anarchy, 
he  replied: 

"  I  am  passionately  attached  to  France  and  to  lib 
erty,  and  I  will  do  all  that  may  be  in  my  power  to 
secure  the  glory  and  prosperity  of  the  former,  and 
the  permanency  of  the  latter.  I  believe,  however, 
with  Mirabeau,  that  the  monarchy  is  dead,  and  that 
a  republic  will,  ere  long,  be  inaugurated.  I  have 
great  doubts  as  to  the  possibility  of  maintaining  such 
a  form  of  government  here.  But  I  think  that  the 
experiment  must  be  tried.  It  will  be  a  curious  spec 
tacle  to  watch  the  progress  of  those  twin  sisters — the 
American  and  French  republics.  If  they  both  fail, 
the  human  mind  will  no  longer  pursue  what  will  be 
considered  a  political  chimera — self-government.  It 

(303) 


304  A  USER  T  D  USA  YE  T. 

will  be  a  point  settled  ;  and  the  next  wisest  step  to 
be  taken,  I  suppose,  will  be  to  resort  to  constitutional 
monarchies,  as  a  pis-aller — as  the  least  evil." 

"If  a  public  debt,  as  Jefferson  maintains,  is  incom 
patible  with  a  republic,"  answered  Gouverneur  Mor 
ris,  "  then  your  future  French  republic  is  threatened 
with  speedy  dissolution ;  for  your  indebtedness  is  en 
larging  its  proportions  with  mushrcom  growth.  Take 
these  American  journals  which  I  have  just  received, 
and  you  will  see  Jefferson's  views  on  affairs  on  the 
other  side  of  the  Atlantic." 

Aubert  Dubayet,  when  he  went  home,  perused 
those  papers  with  great  interest,  and  saw  with  what 
vigor  Jefferson  was  launching  out  against  the  public 
debt  in  America,  and  against  all  the  evils  which  he 
apprehended  from  the  funding  system,  "  the  ultimate 
object  of  which  was,"  said  he,  "  to  prepare  the  way 
for  a  change  from  the  present  republican  form  of  gov 
ernment  to  that  of  a  monarchy,  of  which  the  English 
constitution  is  to  be  the  model."  He  concluded  by 
pronouncing  the  continuance  of  Washington  at  the 
head  of  the  Government,  to  be  of  the  last  impor 
tance.  "  The  confidence  of  the  whole  Union,"  he 
wrote  to  the  President,  "  is  centred  in  you.  Your  be 
ing  at  the  helm  will  be  more  than  an  answer  to  every 
argument  which  can  be  used  to  alarm  and  lead  the 
people  in  any  quarter  into  violence,  or  secession. 
North  and  South  will  hang  together,  if  they  have  you 
to  hang  on."  * 

Thus  it  became  evident  to  Dubayet  that  the  Union 
was  far  from  being  considered  as  firmly  established, 
even  in  the  opinion  of  its  founders.  What !  said  he 


*  Irving's  "  Life  of  Washington,"  p.  115,  vol.  v. 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  305 

to  himself,  if  Washington  were  to  disappear,  "  the 
North  and  the  South  would  not  hang  together !  " 
There  would  be  "  secession  "  !  Of  what  value  are  in 
stitutions  which  depend  on  the  life  of  a  man  ?  If  the 
American  republic  is  not  safely  constructed,  can  we 
hope  to  raise  such  an  edifice  on  the  volcanic  soil  of 
France  ?  His  mind  became  filled  with  gloomy  appre 
hensions.  He  resolved,  however,  not  to  waver  in 
what  he  considered  his  path  of  duty,  and  he  went  on 
working  with  patience,  dignity,  and  good  intentions. 
He  rose  to  so  much  personal  consideration  in  the  As 
sembly  that  he  was  elected  their  president,  and  occu 
pied  that  position  for  two  weeks.  But  he  soon  dis 
covered  that,  as  a  conservative,  he  was  in  the  minor 
ity  in  all  his  political  views  and  opinions,  and  he  re 
joiced  when  the  Assembly  was  dissolved.  He  deter 
mined  not  to  incur  the  responsibilities  of  being  a 
member  in  any  other;  and  to  escape  from  a  forced 
participation  in  the  excesses  which  he  foresaw,  he  re- 
entered  the  army ;  for  war  had  been  declared ;  and 
from  the  grade  of  captain  he  soon  ascended  to  be  gen 
eral  of  brigade.  He  was  complimented  on  his  promo 
tion  by  Jefferson,  who  professed  great  esteem  for  him, 
and  who  wrote  to  him  in  relation  to  American  affairs: 
"A  sect  has  shown  itself  among  us,  who  declare 
they  espoused  our  constitution,  not  as  a  good  and 
sufficient  thing  in  itself,  but  only  as  a  step  to  an  En 
glish  constitution,  the  only  thing  good  and  sufficient 
in  itself,  in  their  eyes.  It  is  happy  for  us  that  these 
are  preachers  without  followers,  and  that  our  people 
are  firm  and  constant  in  their  republican  purity.  You 
will  wonder  to  be  told  that  it  is  from  the  eastward, 
chiefly,  that  these  champions  for  a  King,  Lords,  and 
Commons  come.  They  get  some  important  associates 


306  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

from  New  York,  and  are  puffed  up  by  a  tribe  of  agio- 
tcurs  which  have  been  hatched  in  a  bed  of  corruption, 
made  up  after  the  model  of  their  beloved  England. 
Too  many  of  these  stock-jobbers  and  king-jobbers 
have  come  into  our  legislature,  or  rather,  too  many  of 
our  legislature  have  become  stock-jobbers  and  king- 
jobbers.  However,  the  voice  of  the  people  is  begin 
ning  to  make  itself  heard,  and  will  probably  cleanse 
their  seats  at  the  next  election."  * 

With  deep  concern  Aubert  Dubayet  saw  the  ran. 
corous  bitterness  with  which  Jefferson  expressed  him 
self  on  Hamilton,  when  speaking  of  his  own  probable 
retirement  from  Washington's  Cabinet. 

"  To  a  thorough  disregard,"  he  said,  "  of  the  honors 
and  emoluments  of  office  I  join  as  great  a  value  for 
the  esteem  of  my  countrymen  ;  and  conscious  of  hav 
ing  merited  it  by  an  integrity  which  can  not  be  re 
proached,  and  by  an  enthusiastic  devotion  to  their 
rights  and  liberty,  I  will  not  suffer  my  retirement  to 
be  clouded  by  the  slanders  of  a  man,  whose  history, 
from  the  moment  at  which  history  can  stoop  to  notice 
him,  is  a  tissue  of  machinations  against  the  liberty  of 
the  country  which  has  not  only  received  and  given 
him  bread,  but  heaped  its  honors  on  his  head."f 

Jefferson  was  also  much  excited  against  Gouverneur 
Morris ;  he  complained  that  the  American  minister 
falsely  represented  France  as  governed  by  Jacobin 
clubs,  and  Lafayette  as  having  completely  lost  his 
authority  by  endeavoring  to  check  their  excesses. 
"  He  writes  to  the  President,"  said  Jefferson,  "that 
were  Lafayette,  who  is  at  the  head  of  an  army  on  the 


*  Jefferson's  Works,  vol.  iii.,  p.  450. 

t  Irving' s  "  Life  of  Washington,"  vol.  v.,  p.  130. 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  307 

frontier  and  facing  the  enemy,  to  appear  just  now  in 
Paris,  unattended  by  that  army,  he  would  be  torn  to 
pieces.  I  am  impatient  of  these  gloomy  picturings, 
especially  when  I  see  their  effect  on  the  mind  of 
Washington,  who  is  exceedingly  anxious  about  the 
fate  of  his  friend  and  the  condition  of  France.  The 
fact  is,  that  Gouverneur  Morris,  a  high-flying  mon 
archy  man,  shutting  his  eyes  and  his  faith  to  every 
fact  against  his  wishes,  and  believing  everything  he 
desires  to  be  true,  has  kept  the  President's  mind  con 
stantly  poisoned  with  his  forebodings." 

Morris,  however,  was  not  so  very  far  from  the  truth 
in  his  prognostications.  Revolutions  are  swift-footed, 
and  do  not  feed  with  milk  those  who  seek  food  from 
their  breast.  Revolutions  secrete  blood,  and  nothing 
else.  Hardly  had  Jefferson  penned  the  lines  above 
quoted,  when,  on  the  Qth  of  August,  1792,  Paris  was 
startled  by  the  sound  of  the  tocsin  at  midnight.  On 
the  next  morning,  the  populace,  yelling  like  demons, 
rushed  pell-mell  into  the  palace  of  the  Tuileries,  after 
having  massacred  the  few  Swiss  guards  who  defended 
the  hereditary  abode  of  royalty.  The  King  and  Queen 
had  barely  time  to  escape  and  to  fly  to  the  Assembly 
of  the  representatives  of  the  people  for  protection. 
That  protection  exhibited  itself  in  the  shape  of  a  de 
cree  suspending  the  King's  authority.  This  meant 
his  dethronement,  the  annihilation  of  the  constitu 
tional  party,  and  the  commencement  of  the  reign  of 
terror.  Lafayette  was  a  constitutionalist,  and,  there 
fore,  was  proscribed.  In  the  name  of  liberty,  universal 
fraternity,  and  philanthropy,  the  Jacobins  denounced 
him  in  the  Assembly.  He  had  the  original  sin  of  be 
ing  born  a  Marquis,  and,  of  course,  every  Marquis  was 
bound  to  be  a  traitor  to  the  people.  His  arrest  was 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

decreed,  and  emissaries  were  sent  to  carry  the  decree 
into  effect.  The  first  impulse  of  Lafayette  was  to 
seize  these  Jacobin  envoys,  or  sans  culottes,  as  they 
began  to  be  called,  and  march  on  Paris  to  face  his 
accusers.  He  soon  discovered,  however,  that  his  army 
was  disposed  to  fraternize  with  the  sans  culottes,  or 
patriots  without  breeches,  and  he  fled  with  a  few 
trusty  friends,  intending  to  seek  an  asylum  in  Hol 
land,  or  the  United  States.  But  he  was  detained  a 
prisoner  at  the  first  Austrian  post,  and  subsequently 
domiciliated  in  a  fortress  to  reflect  on  the  inconstancy 
of  human  affairs,  as  already  related. 

"  Thus  his  circle  is  completed,"  wrote  Morris.  "  He 
has  spent  his  fortune  on  a  revolution,  and  is  now 
crushed  by  the  wheel  which  he  has  set  in  motion.  He 
lasted  longer  than  I  expected."  It  is  hardly  neces 
sary  to  mention  that  Washington  looked  with  a  sad 
eye  on  this  catastrophe. 

Gouverneur  Morris  probably  took  a  malicious  pleas 
ure  in  writing  to  Jefferson  :  "  The  reign  of  terror  con 
tinues.  We  have  had  one  week  of  unchecked  mur 
ders,  in  which  some  thousands  have  perished  in  this 
city.  It  began  with  between  two  and  three  hundred 
of  the  clergy,  who  had  been  shot  because  they  would 
not  take  the  oaths  prescribed  by  the  law,  and  which, 
they  said,  were  contrary  to  their  conscience.  From 
the  streets,  the  executors  of  speedy  justice,  as  they  called 
themselves,  went  to  \.\\eAbbaye,  where  persons  of  noble 
birth  were  confined.  These  were  dispatched  also,  and 
afterward,  these  judges  visited  the  other  prisons  ; 
and  all  those  who  were  confined,  either  on  the  accu 
sation  or  suspicion  of  crimes,  were  destroyed."  * 


*  Morris  to  Jefferson,  September  10,  1792. 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  309 

Jefferson  was  stung  to  the  quick  by  this  letter, 
which  he  looked  upon  as  casting  a  slur  on  the  Jaco 
bins,  to  whom  he  was  much  attached,  and  whom  he 
considered  as  pure  as  any  of  the  Roman  patriots  of 
old.  Thinking  that  justice  was  not  done  to  them,  he, 
probably  in  a  fit  of  indignation,  wrote  to  Mr.  Short,'* 
an  attache  to  the  American  legation  in  Paris,  a  letter 
which  was  purloined  by  an  unfaithful  valet,  a  Jacobin 
himself.  This  letter  was  used  in  a  manner  which  Jef 
ferson  did  not  anticipate,  and  which  would  have  as 
tounded  him. 

Dogs  that  have  tasted  blood  want  more  of  it.  The 
Jacobins  were  wolves ;  and  wolves,  when  they  have 
lapped  that  liquid,  are  more  greedy  for  it  than  dogs. 
Hence,  one  evening,  in  one  of  the  suburbs  of  Paris,  a 
large  crowd  of  patriots  had  met  in  an  immense  cellar, 
a  sort  of  cavern,  dimly  lighted,  and  ornamented  with 
red  flags  and  other  decorations  appropriately  devised 
for  the  occasion.  But  all  those  things,  remarkable 
and  impressive  as  they  were,  could  hardly  be  noticed, 
when  there  were  such  faces,  to  absorb  all  attention, 
as  those  of  the  human  beings  who  composed  the  as 
sembly.  Their  photographs  would  have  commanded 
a  high  price  in  the  fancy  shops,  duly  licensed,  of  his 
Satanic  Majesty's  kingdom.  Barrere  de  Vieuzac  pre 
sided  over  the  meeting,  and,  on  taking  his  seat, 
stated  in  his  mellifluous  voice  and  in  his  peculiar 
phraseology :  "  that  the  tree  of  liberty,  recently 
planted,  was  withering ;  that  its  roots  needed  more 
irrigation ;  and  that  its  head  expected  a  refreshing 
fall  of  heavenly  dew."  What  that  dew  was,  every 
one  present  understood.  Hence  the  sentiment  was 


*  Jefferson's  Works,  vol.  iii.,  p.  501. 


310  A  UBERT  DUBA  YET. 

vociferously  applauded.  Then  the  assembly  took 
up  the  famous  song  of  the  epoch,  $a  ira,  $a  ira,  les 
aristocratcs  d  la  lanterne* 

"  It  will  be  a  mercy  to  them,"  shouted  a  shirtless 
and  half-inebriated  wit ;  "  but  they  are  so  hopelessly 
blind  that  they  will  not  see  any  better  for  it." 

This  sally  was  a  success,  and  Pandemonium  yelled 
with  delight.  At  that  moment  there  appeared  a  per 
sonage  who  was  greeted  with  a  deafening  demonstra 
tion  of  enthusiasm.  He  was  a  deformed  dwarf,  with  a 
monstrously  large  head  and  hideous  features,  decayed 
teeth,  and  a  coarse  mouth  extending  almost  from  ear 
to  ear.  His  dress  seemed  to  be  affectedly  dirty  and 
seedy.  His  name  was  Jean  Paul  Marat,  a  Swiss  by  birth 
and  a  physician  by  profession.  Starving  in  his  coun 
try,  he  had  come  to  France  in  search  of  bread,  and 
had  established  himself  as  an  empiric  and  a  strolling 
quack,  who  sold  medicinal  herbs,  and  a  panacea  which 
cured  all  diseases.  Notwithstanding  the  possession 
of  that  miraculous  nostrum,  he  had  continued  to  re 
main  in  the  most  abject  destitution.  To  emerge  from 
it,  he  had  imagined  to  become  an  author.  His  first 
production  was  the  translation  of  an  English  publica 
tion,  of  very  slender  merit,  entitled  "  The  Chains  of 
Slavery."  Having  failed  to  coin  the  "  Chains  of 
Slavery  "  into  money,  he  launched  out  a  more  aspir 
ing  and  voluminous  work  with  this  title :  "  Man, 
Principles  and  Laws  which  Govern  Him ;  Influence 
of  the  Soul  on  the  Body,  and  of  the  Body  on  the 
Soul."  It  seems,  therefore,  that  Marat  believed,  or 
pretended  to  believe,  in  the  soul.  He  had  also  given 
to  the  press  several  other  compositions  on  anatomy, 


*The  aristocrats  to  the  lamp-post. 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  3!  I 

optics,  and  electricity.  Notwithstanding  all  these  at 
tempted  displays  of  learning,  Marat  had  remained 
obscure  and  miserably  poor,  and  had  ended  in  gladly 
accepting  the  humble  situation  of  horse  doctor  in  the 
stables  of  the  Count  of  Artois,  a  brother  of  the  King. 
He  was  performing  these  functions  when  the  revolu 
tion  broke  out.  In  a  storm  which  convulsed  society 
to  its  foundations,  and  brought  its  dregs  to  the  sur 
face,  Marat  could  not  but  become  prominent.  He 
immediately  established  a  journal  called  The  Friend 
of  the  People,  in  which  he  daily  advocated,  openly  or 
impliedly,  the  commission  of  every  one  of  the  crimes 
prohibited  by  the  decalogue.  It  very  naturally  fol 
lowed  that  he  acquired  an  immense  popularity.  His 
paper  was  read  with  avidity,  and  approvingly  com 
mented  on  with  delirious  violence  in  all  the  sinks  of 
the  capital.  The  horse  doctor,  the  quack  who  cured 
with  his  Swiss  balsam  all  the  ills  that  flesh  is  heir  to, 
obtained  the  honor  of  being  elected  a  representative 
of  Paris  in  the  National  Convention. 

As  soon  as  the  plaudits  which  had  greeted  his  en 
trance  into  the  Jacobin  Club  had  ceased,  Marat  as 
cended  a  sort  of  platform,  or  tribune,  that  stood  in 
front  of  the  president,  a  little  lower  than  his  seat,  and 
said  with  his  harsh,  croaking,  discordant  voice : 

"  Citizens,  the  country  is  still  in  danger,  but  be  not 
alarmed  ;  I  am  on  the  watch  tower.  The  country  re 
quires  new  doses  of  the  most  powerful  drastics,  and 
copious  bleedings,  to  recover  robust  health  and  per 
petuate  the  duration  of  its  liberties  and  franchises. 
We  must  continue  with  steadiness  the  wholesome 
medical  treatment  which  we  have  begun  to  admin 
ister.  The  jails  of  Paris  are  now  vacant,  in  conse 
quence  of  the  purging  which  we  recently  gave  them. 


312  A  UBERT  DUBA  YET. 

We  must  fill  them  again,  and  again  make  them  vacant. 
But  this  will  not  be  enough.  We  must  do  the  same 
in  all  the  provinces.  All  the  prisons  in  France  are 
gorged ;  it  is  a  dangerous  plethora.  They  must  be 
relieved  from  it,  and  be  made  to  vomit  into  the  grave 
the  indigestible  food  with  which  their  maws  are  loaded. 
I  have  calculated  with  minute  exactness  the  quantity 
of  blood  required  for  the  safety  of  the  people.  The 
head  of  the  King  must  fall,  and  with  it  the  heads  of 
three  hundred  thousand  aristocrats  and  traitors." 

Marat  continued  in  this  strain,  becoming  more  and 
more  extravagantly  atrocious  in  his  insane  ravings, 
which  were  accompanied  with  epileptic  gesticulations, 
until  the  very  excess  of  his  ferocity  produced  a  re 
action  in  the  assembly,  thoroughly  steeped  in  cruelty 
and  all  alive  with  evil  passions  as  it  was.  Reprobat 
ing  cries  of  "  Oh  !  oh !  that  is  going  too  far.  You  will 
make  the  very  name  of  Jacobin  a  word  of  shame  and 
horror ! "  were  heard  in  different  parts  of  the  vast  dingy 
room.  The  orator  paused  in  astonishment  at  this 
manifestation  of  unexpected  and  unusual  disapproba 
tion.  But  he  was  not  put  out  of  countenance. 

"What  is  this?  What  do  you  mean?"  he  exclaim 
ed  with  unabashed  assurance.  "  Have  you  become 
chicken-hearted?  Jacobins,  you  need  not  be  ashamed 
of  what  you  have  done ;  go  on,  and  do  not  lose  your 
well-earned  reputation  for  stern  and  honest  patriotism. 
I  will  demonstrate  to  you  that  the  course  which  we 
have  pursued,  and  which  I  wish  you  still  to  pursue, 
is  approved  by  the  very  highest  authority  on  earth. 
Is  not  the  republic  of  America  our  model?  Can  we 
have  better  guides  than  those  sages  who  established 
it  for  the  benefit  and  example  of  mankind  ?  You  all 
venerate  the  name  of  Jefferson,  now  a  member  of  the 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


313 


Cabinet  of  General  Washington.  You  know  how  he 
encouraged  us  in  all  our  plans,  when  he  was  here.  I 
have  in  my  pocket  a  letter  addressed  by  him  to  a 
friend  in  Paris.  Listen  to  what  he  writes.  He  begins 
with  saying  that  he  does  not  find  fault  with  our  ac 
quiescing  for  a  time  in  the  experiment  of  retaining  a 
hereditary  executive,  but  that,  as  we  have  ascertained 
that  it  would  ensure  the  re-establishment  of  despot 
ism,  he  considers  it  absolutely  indispensable  to  ex 
punge  that  office.  Thus  he  and  I  agree  in  the  prem 
ises,  as  you  see.  What  is  the  sequel  ?  I  quote  his 
very  words.  Open  your  ears,  you,  my  friends,  who 
think  proper  to  make  asses  of  yourselves,  this  even 
ing,  and  who  presume  to  think  that  I  go  too  far." 

Wiping  his  perspiring  forehead  with  a  coarse  and 
filthy-looking  rag  which  he  used  as  a  handkerchief, 
Marat  went  on : 

"  Thus  citizen  Jefferson  expresses  himself:  'In  the 
struggle  which  was  necessary,  many  guilty  persons  fell 
without  the  forms  of  trial,  and  with  them,  some  inno 
cent'  I  deny,  of  course,  the  latter  part  of  the  asser 
tion.  '  These  I  deplore,'  he  says,  'as  much  as  anybody, 
and  some  of  them  I  shall  deplore  to  the  day  of  my  death. 
But  I  deplore  them,  as  I  should  have  done,  had  they 
fallen  in  battle'  Admirable !  The  great  patriot  is 
tender-hearted ;  and,  at  the  same  time,  firm  as  a  rock 
and  unswerving  as  fate.  '  //  was  necessary  to  use  the 
arm  of  the  people,  a  machine  not  quite  as  blind  as  balls 
and  bombs,  but  blind  to  a  certain  degree.  A  few  of 
their  cordial  friends  met  at  their  hands  the  fate  of  ene 
mies.  But  time  and  truth  will  rescue  and  embalm  their 
memories,  while  their  posterity  will  be  enjoying  the  -very 
liberty  for  which  they  never  would  have  hesitated  to 
offer  up  their  lives.  The  liberty  of  the  whole  earth  was 
14 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

depending  on  the  issue  of  tJic  contest ;  and  was  ci'er  suck 
a  prize  won  ivith  so  little  innocent  blood?'  Now,  Jaco 
bins,  what  do  you  say  to  that?  What  our  enemies 
call  murders  and  butcheries,  Jefferson  calls  '  a  necessary 
struggle.'  Our  breaking  into  all  the  prisons  of  Paris 
and  killing  in  them  thousands  of  men,  women,  and 
children,  he  considers  to  be  'a  battle  in  a  good  cause.' 
He  says  that  we  were  right  in  assuming  that  many 
were  guilty,  and  in  destroying  them  without  any  forms 
of  preparatory  trial  to  ascertain  the  fact.  I  agree  with 
him  in  this,  but  I  disagree  when  he  asserts  that  you 
massacred  some  of  your  '  cordial ' friends j  and  approves 
of  it.  You  never  did  so,  and  I  would  never  sanction 
the  perpetration  of  such  an  act.  A  cause  which  re 
quires  for  its  success  the  assassination  of  cordial 
friends,  is  bad  and  must  be  abandoned.  I  am  not 
afraid  of  being  disavowed  by  you,  citizens,  when  I 
proclaim  that  the  people  shall  be  without  mercy  for 
their  enemies ;  but,  at  the  same  time,  shall  always 
consider  their  friends  as  sacred  objects,  and  shall 
never  have  the  cowardly  selfishness  to  sacrifice  any 
one  of  them  to  any  of  the  exigencies  of  the  time." 
Great  applause. 

After  a  pause,  during  which  he  surveyed  the  assem 
bly  with  a  gratified  look,  Marat  thus  resumed  his  dis 
course  : 

"  You  will  observe,  Jacobins,  that  Jefferson  says 
that  there  never  was  such  a  prize  won  with  so  little  in 
nocent  blood.  'Little  blood !  '  Do  you  hear?  Hence 
am  I  not  justified  in  asking  for  more,  to  confirm  us  in 
the  possession  of  that  prize  !  But  I  deny  that  there 
was  innocent  blood  shed.  I  would  not  approve  of  it, 
as  he  does.  It  was  guilty  blood ;  and  it  is  a  larger 
quantity  of  that  guilty  blood,  which  I  desire  at  your 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  3x5 

hands,  to  secure  that  liberty,  equality,  and  fraternity 
which  it  is  our  mission  to  spread  over  the  whole  earth. 
Should  one  of  you  here  be  disposed  to  think  that 
enough  of  it  has  been  spilt,  I  now  call  his  special  at 
tention  to  this  last  paragraph  of  Jefferson's  letter: 
'  My  own  affections  have  been  deeply  wounded  by 
some  of  the  martyrs  to  this  cause,  but  rather  than  it 
should  have  failed,  I  would  have  seen  half  the  earth 
desolated ;  were  there  but  an  Adam  and  Eve  left  in 
every  country,  and  left  free,  it  would  be  better  than 
as  it  now  is.'  *  Well,  citizens,  that  beats  me,  you 
must  admit.  I  am  overwhelmed  with  the  grandeur 
and  heroism  of  a  sentiment  for  which  I  can  not  have 
too  much  admiration,  but  I  dare  not  go  so  far.  I 
only  insist  on  having  three  hundred  thousand  heads." 
In  one  of  the  corners  of  the  room,  in  the  back 
ground,  and  unnoticed  by  anybody,  sat  a  youth,  who 
had  been  an  attentive  observer  and  listener.  He  rose, 
and  walked  deliberately  to  an  open  space  running 
from  the  entrance  door  to  the  seat  of  the  president, 
and  serving  as  a  passage  for  the  members  of  the  club 
and  for  the  public,  as  they  came  in  and  took  their 
seats  on  the  right  and  left.  There  he  stopped,  draw 
ing  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  which  measured 
about  six  feet,  and  exhibiting  as  fine  a  specimen  of 
humanity  as  the  eye  loves  to  rest  upon.  He  was 
pale,  not  from  fear,  but  from  the  intensity  of  some 
feeling  which  he  had  evidently  determined  to  keep 
under  control,  if  possible.  Surely  there  was,  there 
could  be,  no  fear  in  the  breast  of  that  man.  His 
flashing  eyes  would  have  forbidden  such  a  supposi 
tion  ;  they  were  those  of  a  hero.  There  was  in  his 


*  Letter  to  Mr.  Short.    Jefferson's  Works,  vol.  iii.,  p.  501. 


3 16  A  UBERT  DUBA  YET. 

manner  and  look  something  so  expressive,  that  he 
riveted  at  once  the  attention  of  the  whole  assembly. 
All  turned  toward  him,  and  the  silence  was  profound. 
It  is  astonishing  what  rapidity  of  intuition  there  is, 
sometimes,  in  a  crowd  of  men !  Every  one  present 
felt  at  once  and  sympathetically,  that  something 
striking  and  unexpected  was  to  take  place. 

"  Mr.  President,"  said  the  unknown,  with  a  voice 
which  sounded  like  the  bold  and  stirring  blast  of  a 
clarion,  "  I  am  from  Brittany.  The  son  of  an  honest 
peasant,  I  disregarded  his  remonstrances  and  the  en 
treaties  of  a  pious  mother,  in  a  moment  of  folly,  to 
come  to  Paris,  and  witness  the  wonders  which  the  na 
tion  hoped  for,  under  the  new  order  of  things  that 
was  to  be  established.  Thanks  to  the  priest  of  my 
village,  I  have  received  some  education,  and  I  have 
delighted  to  read  with  him  the  history  of  the  heroic 
days  of  antiquity.  I  loved  to  dream  of  the  republics 
of  Rome  and  Greece,  and  I  had  come  to  the  capital 
to  participate  in  the  inauguration  of  one  superior  to 
those  of  past  and  pagan  ages,  because  born  in  the 
bosom  of  Christianity.  But  I  have  heard  and  secii 
enough.  The  cries  of  your  victims  have  appalled  my 
ears,  and  I  shall  never  forget  the  streams  of  blood 
which  I  have  beheld.  My  illusions  are  gone.  I  look 
with  horror  on  the  infidel  and  heartless  republicanism 
of  America  and  France,  as  typified  by  Jefferson  and 
Marat.  What  will  become  of  America  with  such 
sentiments  and  principles  as  are  professed  by  leaders 
of  that  stamp,  I  do  not  know,  and  care  not.  I  know, 
however,  but  too  well,  what  you  will  make  of  France. 
I  curse  the  day  when  I  called  myself  a  republican. 
Brigands,  I  will  never  associate  with  you  any  more. 
I  am  a  royalist  now,  from  head  to  foot,  body  and  soul 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  3:7 

Long  live  the  King !  I  am  off  for  La  Vendee.  My 
name  is  Cathelineau,  and,  God  helping,  I  hope,  ere 
long,  to  make  it  ring  in  your  ears." 

He  rushed  out  of  the  room  and  disappeared,  be 
fore  the  assembly,  taken  by  surprise,  had  recovered 
from  the  stupor  of  amazement  into  which  they  had 
been  thrown  by  so  bold  a  speech. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

CHARLOTTE     CORDAY — ASSASSINATION     OF     MARAT. 

ON  the  next  day  after  this  nocturnal  assembly  of 
the  Jacobins,  Marat,  relying  on  the  importance  which 
he  derived  from  his  being  one  of  the  representatives 
of  Paris  in  the  National  Convention,  appeared  in  the 
midst  of  that  body,  followed  by  a  band  of  patriotic  ban 
dits  and  liberty-loving  cut-throats,  who  tumultuously 
occupied  the  galleries  and  lobbies  and  all  the  other 
places  reserved  for  the  public.  Tormented  by  his  in 
satiable  thirst  for  blood,  that  insane  monster  ascended 
the  tribune,  and  with  the  gesticulations  and  rage  of  a 
maniac  denounced  that  part  of  the  assembly  called 
the  Girondists,  which  was  composed  of  the  61ite  of  its 
members.  "The  aristocrats,"  he  shouted,  "say  that 
those  precious  colleagues  of  ours  are  the  only  states 
men  of  whom  this  assembly  can  boast,  and  that  the 
rest  of  us  are  braying  jackasses,  or  hungry  tigers. 
Ha !  ha !  Is  it  so  ?  Well,  /  call  those  men  traitors. 
They  are  a  dangerous  faction  of  conspirators  against 
the  liberties  of  the  people.  I  ask  for  the  heads  of 
that  faction  of  pretended  statesmen.  I  also  ask  you 
to  decree  the  massacre  of  two  hundred  and  seventy 
thousand  partisans  of  the  old  regime — I  have  counted 
them — the  sum  total  is  correct — and  I  further  ask 
you  to  reduce  to  one-fourth  the  members  of  this  Na 
tional  Convention,  which,  after  this  epuration,  will  be 
(318) 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


319 


composed  only  of  the  well-tried  and  well-known 
friends  of  the  people,  such,  for  instance,  as  Danton, 
St.  Just,  Robespierre,  and  myself.  I  ask  that  one 
hundred  thousand  of  the  relatives  of  the  emigres — I 
can  not  spare  a  single  one  of  them — it  makes  a  round 
number — be  imprisoned  as  guaranties  for  the  conduct 
of  those  rebels  who  have  fled  to  foreign  territories." 

"And  /ask  in  my  turn,"  exclaimed  the  impetuous 
Barbaroux,  rising  in  his  seat  and  interrupting  the 
orator — Barbaroux,  one  of  the  deputies  of  Marseilles, 
who,  by  his  eloquence,  his  real  enthusiasm  for  liberty, 
and  the  wonderful  beauty  of  his  person,  was  one  of 
the  most  conspicuous  among  the  Girondists — "  I  ask 
in  the  name  of  common  sense,  in  the  name  of  the 
outraged  rights  of  humanity,  in  the  name  of  justice, 
dignity,  and  respect  for  ourselves,  that  this  disgusting 
foreigner  be  kicked  out  of  this  hall  of  our  delibera 
tions  which  he  pollutes  by  his  presence ;  that  he  be 
whipped  by  the  hangman,  and  then  confined  in  a 
lunatic  asylum,  or  rather  in  some  house  of  correction, 
for  there  is  more  malignity  in  him  than  madness." 
There  followed  an  indescribable  scene  of  confusion 
that  brought  on  a  death  struggle  between  the  different 
parties  dividing  the  Convention — which  struggle,  after 
days  of  the  fiercest  contention,  ended  in  the  destruc 
tion  of  the  Girondists.  They  were  all  outlawed  ;  some 
were  arrested  and  incarcerated  ;  others,  among  whom 
was  Barbaroux,  fled  from  Paris  to  the  provinces. 
This  was  Marat's  last  triumph  ;  his  mission  was  at  an 
end.  Providence  has  marvelous  ways  of  her  own  to 
get  rid  of  those  agents  of  evil  who,  for  a  little  while, 
are  permitted  to  run  their  unchecked  course  through 
the  apparent  chaos  of  human  affairs. 

There  lived  at  that  epoch,  near  the  village  of  St. 


320 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


Saturnin,  in  Normandy,  a  young  woman  of  noble 
birth.  Her  name  was  Marie  Anne  Charlotte  Corday 
D'Armans.  Damsels  of  her  rank,  in  those  days,  were 
generally  educated  in  convents.  She  had  been  no 
exception  to  that  almost  universal  rule.  But,  at  the 
age  of  fifteen,  she  became,  on  the  death  of  her  par 
ents,  the  ward  of  an  uncle,  a  Knight  of  Malta,  who 
had  retired  from  active  service  in  consequence  of  his 
numerous  wounds,  and  of  those  infirmities  which  an 
nounce  the  approach  of  the  winter  of  life.  Louis 
Corday  D'Armans,  having  installed  himself  in  the 
feudal  manor  of  his  niece  with  a  maiden  sister,  only 
two  years  younger  than  himself,  determined,  after  due 
consultation  with  that  venerable  spinster,  to  assume 
the  responsibility  of  giving  a  home  education  to 
Charlotte,  and  withdrew  her  from  the  religious  insti 
tution  where  she  had  already  been  several  years. 
The  old  uncle  and  aunt  thought  that  the  monotony 
of  the  solitude  in  which  they  lived,  would  be  much 
relieved  by  the  companionship  of  their  young  niece. 
The  aunt  would  take  care  to  initiate  her  into  the  mys 
teries  of  housekeeping,  and  the  uncle  would  while 
away  many  of  the  hours  that  hung  heavy  on  his 
hands,  by  teaching  his  ward  to  love  those  classic 
works  of  antiquity  which  he  himself  idolized.  Thus 
the  fate  of  Charlotte  was  fixed.  She  was  taken  away 
from  the  convent,  and  an  important  historical  event 
was  the  consequence  of  her  guardian's  somewhat  self 
ish  resolution. 

Louis  Corday  D'Armans,  Count  of  Seez,  and  Knight 
of  Malta,  although  a  military  man  and  a  man  of  the 
world,  was  a  scholar  of  considerable  attainments,  and 
one  of  those  free-thinkers  who  had  been  the  fashion 
since  the  beginning  of  the  eighteenth  century.  It 


A  UBER T  D UBA  YET.  321 

was  not  strange,  therefore,  that  he  should  be  one  of 
those  nobles  who  thought  that  monarchies  were  the 
effete  things  of  the  past,  and  that  the  regeneration  of 
mankind  required  a  fraternity  of  nations  and  a  uni 
versal  system  of  republics  all  over  the  world.  He 
was  a  fanatical  admirer  of  antiquity,  and  would  have 
wished  to  substitute  the  institutions  of  Athens  and 
Rome  for  those  which  had  prevailed  so  long  in  his 
own  native  country,  although  it  certainly  would  have 
puzzled  him,  if  he  had  been  called  upon  to  reconcile 
the  democracy  of  Attica  with  the  aristocracy  that 
had  built  the  imperial  city  on  the  banks  of  the  Tiber. 
His  ideas  were  rather  nebulous  on  the  subject,  but 
he  had  no  doubt  that,  under  a  proper  and  skillful 
manipulation,  his  Gallic  countrymen  could  be  turned 
into  a  glorious  compound  of  the  Greek  and  Roman, 
that  would  astonish  the  world  by  the  exhibition  of 
a  material  and  intellectual  progress  hitherto  unknown 
to  the  human  race.  He  had  traveled  and  resided  a 
long  while  in  Italy  and  Greece,  and  cherished  for  the 
memory  of  what  they  were  in  the  past,  a  feeling 
which  amounted  to  almost  a  sort  of  religious  worship. 
He  had  brought  home  from  those  classic  lands  a 
large  collection  of  curiosities,  objects  of  art,  engrav 
ings  and  paintings  which  reproduced  with  exquisite 
accuracy  the  monuments  and  picturesque  scenery  of 
those  favored  regions.  There  was  not  a  Greek  or 
Latin  author  whose  productions  were  not  to  be  found 
in  his  library.  He  had  become  passionately  attached 
to  his  niece,  to  whom  he  had  succeeded  in  communi 
cating  all  his  tastes.  In  that  hall  on  whose  walls 
were  sculptured  the  armorial  bearings  of  feudal 
barons,  and  wherein  had  feasted  a  long  line  of  Nor 
man  knights,  there  were  to  be  seen  no  other  statues 


3 22  -4  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

or  busts  than  those  of  the  heroes  of  Plutarch ;  and 
the  battles  of  ancient  Greece  were  more  frequently 
alluded  to  than  those  which  had  been  fought  by  all 
the  chivalry  of  Europe. 

Wrapped  in  studies  which  grew  upon  them  with 
delightful  fascination,  the  Count  and  his  niece  lived 
in  utter  seclusion — and  in  an  ideal  world  of  their  own. 
Apart  from  a  few  and  rare  visits  from  neighbors,  to 
which  they  rather  submitted  with  courteous  resigna 
tion,  than  assented  with  any  degree  of  complacency, 
they  had  no  other  diversion  they  liked  than  that  of 
the  chase.  With  a  view  of  strengthening  the  consti 
tution  of  his  pupil,  the  Count  had  insisted  on  her  ac 
companying  him  when  he  hunted,  not  only  the  timid 
deer,  but  even  the  wild  boar  and  the  ferocious  wolf. 
He  had  achieved  his  purpose  ;  for  the  glow  of  health 
was  on  the  cheeks  of  his  lovely  kinswoman,  and  the 
vigor  of  manhood  was  harmoniously  blended  with 
the  delicacy  and  softness  of  her  sex.  She  could  swim 
like  one  of  the  water-nymphs  of  ancient  mythology, 
and  the  Gods  themselves  would  have  admired  the 
skill,  grace,  and  activity  with  which  she  engaged  in 
the  favorite  pursuit  of  the  chaste  Diana.  She  had 
become  a  bold  rider,  and  self-reliant  even  in  the  pres 
ence  of  danger,  although  she  retained  all  her  feminine 
attractions,  which  were  made  still  more  attractive  by 
her  look  of  exquisite  modesty,  by  the  natural  ele 
gance  of  her  figure,  and  by  the  perfect  symmetry  of 
such  features  as  those  we  find  chiselled  on  antique 
cameos  by  the  hand  of  a  master.  Under  the  guid 
ance  of  her  uncle,  this  wonderful  young  woman,  gift 
ed  with  a  soul  to  which  all  that  was  pure,  elevated, 
and  sublime  was  congenial,  had  so  identified  herself 
with  the  poetry,  the  history,  the  philosophy,  the 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  323 

manners,  usages,  religion,  and  feelings  of  Greece  and 
Rome,  that  she  was  more  of  a  Grecian  or  a  Roman 
than  a  Frenchwoman.  She  was  a  self-consecrated 
vestal  in  the  temple  of  antiquity,  keeping  up  in  all 
its  brightness  the  sacred  fire  which  was  the  object  of 
her  worship. 

When  the  French  revolution  broke  out,  both  the 
uncle  and  the  niece  followed  with  intense  interest  all 
the  phases  of  that  momentous  event.  They  had  read 
with  enthusiasm  the  declaration  of  the  rights  of  man, 
and  had  looked  on  Mirabeau  as  the  Demosthenes  of 
France.  All  their  dreams  were  now,  at  length,  to  be 
realized,  and  the  virtues  of  the  best  days  of  Greece 
and  Rome  were  to  be  revived  on  the  fruitful  soil  of 
those  heroic  Gauls  who  had  so  long  deserved  to  be 
free,  and  to  be  purified  from  those  prejudices  which, 
during  so  many  centuries,  had  clouded  their  intellect 
and  riveted  the  chains  that  encumbered  their  limbs. 

The  title  of  King  which  Louis  and  Charlotte  Cor- 
day  hated  as  deeply  as  the  Romans  had  ever  done, 
had  just  been  abolished,  when  the  Knight  of  Malta 
died  of  a  severe  cold  caught  in  hunting ;  and  his 
highly  imaginative  and  classically-educated  niece,  who 
felt  with  acute  sorrow  the  loss  of  her  kind  guardian, 
was  left  to  the  sole  and  uncongenial  companionship 
of  her  aunt,  whose  mind  was  exclusively  engrossed 
by  household  cares.  The  aged  dame  took  no  interest 
in  the  history  of  the  past,  and  very  little  in  that  of 
the  present.  She  was  a  woman  of  few  words.  When 
occasionally  the  prospect  of  the  adoption  of  repub 
lican  institutions  was  forced  upon  her  attention,  she 
would  say  with  an  ominous  shake  of  the  head :  "  I 
do  not  see  how  what  is  not  good  for  a  family,  can  be 
good  for  a  nation.  There  must  be  but  one  ruler  in 


3  24  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

every  house.  If  you  suppress  the  head  cook  in  the 
kitchen,  the  scullions  will  quarrel,  and  the  broth  will 
be  spoiled.  What  is  everybody's  business,  is  no 
body's."  The  utterance  of  these  wise  saws  was  all 
that  could  be  extracted  from  her  on  that  subject.  It 
is  at  least  doubtful  whether  her  theory  of  government 
was  not  as  correct  as  any  other.  The  fact  is,  that  she 
daily  carried  it  into  effective  practice,  for  she  never 
allowed  any  one  to  interfere  with  her  management  of 
her  niece's  establishment,  from  the  garret  to  the  cel 
lar.  It  was  as  beautiful  a  specimen  of  autocratic  ad 
ministration  as  could  be  desired,  and  it  was  quietly 
acquiesced  in  by  the  person  who  alone  had  the  right 
to  dispute  her  authority. 

At  dawn,  one  day,  not  long  after  the  death  of  Louis 
Corday  D'Armans,  Count  of  S6ez,  there  stood  a 
young  woman  on  the  brow  of  a  hill  which  rose  almost 
to  the  dignity  of  a  mountain,  about  three  miles  from 
the  village  of  St.  Saturnin.  It  was  Charlotte  Corday. 
In  one  hand  she  held  a  riding-whip,  and  in  the  other 
a  book — that  wonderful  book  in  which  still  lives  the 
Republic  of  Plato  —  the  Utopia  of  genius,  wherein 
dimly  shone  the  half-luminous  shadow  of  the  coming 
light  of  Christianity.  She  wore  on  her  head  the  tra 
ditional  bonnet  of  Normandy,  white  as  snow,  with 
flaps  hanging  down  on  either  side  of  her  cheeks  to 
her  neck.  This  helmet  of  lace  was  so  adjusted  as  to 
leave  uncovered  the  rich  edge  of  glossy  hair,  that 
from  a  noble  forehead  streamed  down  in  curling 
locks  to  shoulders  over  which  were  thrown  the  folds 
of  a  woolen  tissue,  pinned  to  her  black  dress.  A 
groom  with  two  horses  was  in  waiting  at  a  short 
distance.  A  steep  path,  three  feet  wide,  cut  in  the 
rock,  wound  along  the  crest  of  the  mountain  on  one 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


325 


side,  and,  on  the  other,  yawned  an  abyss  five  hundred 
feet  deep. 

There  Charlotte  Corday  had  alighted  from  her 
horse,  to  admire  the  magnificent  view  which  spread 
far  and  wide  before  her.  The  sun,  just  rising  above 
the  horizon,  was  tipping  every  object  in  the  valley 
below,  one  after  the  other,  with  its  golden  rays.  But, 
for  her  who  gazed  at  the  scene,  it  was  not  the  lumi 
nary  that  science  has  nailed  in  the  vault  of  Heaven ;  it 
was  Apollo  in  his  chariot  of  light,  urging  his  immor 
tal  steeds  through  their  prescribed  career.  The  gentle 
wind  which  sported  with  her  locks,  was  not  a  current 
of  air,  but  an  amorous  zephyr  who  had  been  permitted 
to  woo  the  beauties  of  nature,  whilst  his  tempestuous 
brothers  slept  in  the  cavern  of  Eolus.  To  her  imag 
ination,  yon  stream  which  meandered  through  the 
valley  was  the  far-famed  Eu rotas,  or  the  still  more 
famous  Tiber.  That  edifice  which  loomed  on  a  dis 
tant  hill,  took  the  Corinthian  proportions  of  a  Tem 
ple  of  Minerva.  On  her  left,  the  smoke  that  rose 
from  the  midst  of  a  cluster  of  trees,  proceeded,  no 
doubt,  from  the  altar  of  some  deity  to  whom  a  sacri 
fice  was  being  offered.  On  her  right,  that  rosy  cloud 
ascending  to  the  empyreal  sphere,  was  Venus  return 
ing  to  the  abode  of  the  Gods  above,  from  a  visit  to 
the  Nereids  who  dwell  in  the  depths  of  the  sea  where 
she  was  born.  The  flute  which  greeted  her  ears  must 
have  been  that  of  Pan  summoning  his  sylvan  court 
to  his  presence.  In  front  of  her  the  horizon  closed 
with  a  range  of  precipitous  hills,  between  which  she 
could  discover  only  a  narrow  passage.  Surely  such 
must  have  been  the  immortal  Thermopylae.  She 
fancied  that  she  saw  the  glittering  arms  of  the  three 
hundred,  and  the  crowns  of  flowers  with  which  they 


3 26  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

had  decorated  their  brows  for  the  feast  of  death  in  a 
noble  cause.  But  her  reveries  were  disturbed  by  a 
sudden  noise  which  awoke  the  dreamer  to  the  realities 
of  life. 

A  shot  had  been  fired  at  a  man  who  was  seen  run 
ning  up  the  narrow  path  that  led  to  the  spot  where 
she  stood.  He  seemed  exhausted,  and  his  pursuers, 
half  a  score  in  number,  were  evidently  gaining  ground 
upon  him,  although  the  distance  which  separated 
them  might  be. a  quarter  of  a  mile.  At  that  sight, 
the  groom  in  waiting,  fearing  some  danger,  had  ap 
proached  his  mistress,  and  presenting  the  bridle  of 
her  horse,  was  urging  her  to  mount.  Whilst  she 
hesitated,  the  fugitive,  who  had  rallied  all  his  strength 
for  a  supreme  effort,  bounded  to  her  side.  "  Lady," 
he  said,  with  panting  breath,  "  whoever  you  may  be, 
save  my  life.  I  am  no  wretch  hunted  for  any  crime, 
but  a  representative  of  the  people — a  member  of  the 
National  Convention,  one  of  the  Girondists  outlawed 
by  Marat  and  his  assassin  compeers.  My  name  is 
Barbaroux."  It  would  not  have  been  in  the  heart  of 
woman  to  resist  the  supplicating  look  of  this  Anti- 
nous  of  modern  times.  But  it  was  not  that  which 
moved  her  whom  he  addressed.  Prompt  as  thought 
she  pointed  to  one  of  the  horses.  "  Take  him,"  she 
said,  "  and  give  him  the  reins.  The  faithful  animal 
will  carry  you  to  a  castellated  building  in  a  se 
cluded  spot.  When  at  the  gate,  knock  with  confi 
dence,  ask  for  Grandchamp,  the  steward ;  show  him 
this  ring  for  your  authority,  and  tell  him  to  hide  you 
in  that  place  which  is  known  only  to  him  and  to  me." 
Away,  away  flew  the  horse  with  his  charge,  and  he 
had  almost  disappeared,  when  the  men  who  were  in 
pursuit  confronted  the  young  woman  who  had  calmly 


A  UBER T  D UBA  YET.  327 

awaited  their  coming.  "We  have  seen,  damsel,  what 
you  have  done,"  said  the  commandant  in  a  threaten 
ing  tone.  "  How  dared  you  assist  the  flight  of  the 
guilty  from  justice  ?  Who  are  you  ?  " 

"  One  who  loves  liberty,  and  hates  tyranny  most 
when  hypocritically  committing  crimes  in  that  sacred 
name." 

"  That  fugitive,"  continued  the  officer,  "  is  an  enemy 
of  the  people,  and  his  life  is  forfeited  by  a  decree  of 
the  National  Convention.  I  will  arrest  you  and  bring 
you  before  that  body  to  answer  for  yourself." 

"  I  am  willing  to  follow  you.  My  answer  is  ready. 
I  will  fearlessly  plead  guilty  of  an  act  of  humanity. 
I  know  what  will  be  my  fate  before  such  judges  as 
Marat  and  Robespierre.  But,  before  I  ascend  the 
scaffold,  I  promise  to  ask  them  one  favor — which  is, 
not  to  forget  to  give  you  the  price  of  blood  that  you 
will  have  so  well  deserved.  How  much  is  my  head 
worth,  citizen,  and  at  what  sum  will  you  assess  it? 
Speak." 

The  officer's  face  crimsoned.  "  Soldiers,"  he  said, 
turning  to  his  men  with  an  affected  smile,  "  my 
mother  has  always  told  me  to  be  blind  to  the  faults 
of  women.  Yours  did  probably  the  same.  What  do 
you  say?  Were  our  mothers  right?"  "Aye,  aye," 
was  the  reply. 

"  Then,  right  about  face  and  forward — march.  We 
shall  move  down  this  confounded  hill  with  more  ease 
than  we  came  up.  When  at  headquarters,  I  will  send 
men  in  every  direction  after  the  fugitive.  He  shall  not 
escape.  For  the  present,  we  can  not,  on  foot,  catch 
one  who  is  on  horseback.  As  to  the  citoyenne  here, 
we  will  not  report  her.  She  is  no  aristocrat,  for  she 
has  told  us  that  she  loves  liberty  and  hates  tyranny. 


328  4  UBER  T  D UBA  YE T. 

Three  cheers  for  liberty !  "  And  they  departed,  shout- 
ing  with  all  the  strength  of  their  lungs  for  what  they 
so  little  understood  in  its  political  and  practical  appli 
cation. 

For  several  weeks  after  this  event  the  whole  prov 
ince  of  Normandy  had  been  thoroughly  scoured  by 
the  emissaries  of  the  National  Convention,  and  the 
manor  of  Charlotte  Corday  had  been  twice  searched, 
without  any  discovery  being  made  that  could  lead  to 
the  arrest  of  Barbaroux.  Finally,  there  came  a  re 
port,  generally  believed  to  be  true,  that  he  had  safely 
reached  the  sea-coast  and  embarked  for  England. 
The  pursuit  ceased,  and  the  inhabitants  of  the  district 
suspected  of  having  harbored  the  fugitive  became  free 
from  domiciliary  visits.  The  human  bloodhounds  had 
been  withdrawn,  and  probably  sent  elsewhere  after 
other  victims.  All  this  while,  however,  Barbaroux  had 
remained  concealed  in  the  place  where  he  had  found  a 
refuge.  Old  Grandchamp,  the  steward,  had  watched 
with  the  utmost  solicitude  over  the  safety  of  the  guest 
who  had  been  intrusted  to  his  care,  not  that  he  took 
the  slightest  personal  interest  in  him,  but  because  his 
arrest,  where  he  was,  might  have  endangered  the  life 
of  her  by  whom  he  was  sheltered.  That  gray-haired 
servant  had  been  the  trusty  esquire  and  secretary  of 
Count  Louis  Corday  D'Armans  during  forty  years, 
his  inseparable  companion  in  all  his  campaigns,  and  a 
sympathizing  participator  in  all  the  trials  of  his  life. 

It  is  difficult,  nowadays,  fully  to  understand  the 
relations  which  still  existed  at  that  epoch,  between 
gentlemen  and  those  of  their  domestics  who  approach 
ed  the  nearest  to  their  persons.  Grandchamp  was  a 
specimen  of  those  family  attendants  who  commanded 
the  confidence  and  friendship  of  those  to  whom  they 


A  UPER  T  D  USA  YE  T.  3  29 

had  attached  themselves  with  hereditary  fidelity,  and 
who  boasted  that  their  fathers  had  served  the  ances 
tors  of  their  masters.  He  had  always  been  ready  to 
sacrifice  himself  for  Le  Comte  mon  maitre,  as  the  Comte 
should  have  been  to  die  for  Le  Roi  mon  maitre ;  and 
that  a  Corday  should  have  been  a  republican  and  have 
failed  in  his  allegiance  to  royal  authority,  was  the 
most  portentous  and  inexplicable  event  of  which  old 
Grandchamp's  imagination  could  dream.  He,  at  least, 
would  follow  his  mission  on  earth,  which  was  to  be 
true  and  cling  forever  to  the  family  under  whose  roof 
his  cradle  had  been  placed  by  Providence,  and  to  per 
ish,  if  mote  be,  with  the  last  representative  of  that 
race — a  calamity  which,  he  doubted  not,  would  soon 
happen.  For,  what  were  the  signs  of  the  times  ?  Had 
not  the  highest  nobility  of  France  renounced  and  sacri 
ficed  their  titles,  their  honors,  and  even  their  historical 
names  on  what  they  called  the  altar  of  patriotism  ? 
Were  not  some  of  the  former  magnates  of  the  land  at 
the  head  of  low-born  and  ignorant  demagogues,  who 
had  destroyed  a  glorious  monarchy  consecrated  by  a 
thousand  years  of  existence  ?  Had  not  a  prince  of  the 
blood,  a  descendant  of  Saint  Louis,  boasted  of  being 
the  adulterous  son  of  a  coachman?  Were  not  such 
monstrosities  and  horrors  the  indications  and  forerun 
ners  of  the  coming  end  of  the  world?  Had  he  not 
been  ordered,  he,  Grandchamp,  to  conceal  a  regicide 
under  the  roof  of  a  long  line  of  knights  who  had  per 
ished  in  the  defense  of  those  ideas  and  affections 
which  the  last  heiress  of  their  name  and  blood  had  re 
pudiated  ?  But  he  had  obeyed,  hard  as  it  was  to  his 
loyal  heart.  It  was  not  for  such  as  he  to  question  the 
deeds  or  the  motives  of  those  he  was  bound  to  love 
and  to  serve ;  and,  if  they  courted  self-destruction,  it 


330  A  USER  T  D  USA  YE  T. 

was  none  of  his  business  to  oppose  them.  His  duty 
was  to  follow  them  whither  they  went.  Theirs  was 
the  responsibility ;  that  was  enough  for  him.  Forlorn 
sentinel  of  the  past,  when  all  changed  around  him,  he 
would  die  at  his  post.  Such  were  the  feelings  of  that 
humble  and  generous  soul.  Such  was  the  strange  up 
side-down  of  all  things  on  the  revolutionary  soil  of 
France.  Nobles  had  become  democrats,  and  valets 
had  remained  aristocrats ! 

During  his  concealment,  Barbaroux  had  been  favor 
ed,  always  in  the  evening,  when  there  was  less  danger 
of  being  seen,  with  several  interviews  with  Charlotte 
Corday.  They  took  place  in  the  library,  to  which  he 
obtained  access  through  a  secret  passage  cut  in  the 
thickness  of  the  walls.  Grandchamp,  on  such  occa 
sions,  had  never  failed  to  be  present.  He  was  a  man 
of  tall  stature,  of  military  mien,  with  a  bronzed  face, 
harsh  features,  rough  voice,  and  a  few  locks  of  white 
hair  straggling  over  a  bald  and  osseous  head,  which 
formed  a  striking  contrast  with  his  very  dark,  heavy 
brows  and  thick  moustaches.  Under  this  rugged  ex 
terior  there  was  hid  a  soul  full  of  gentleness  and  sus 
ceptible  of  unlimited  devotion.  At  all  these  meetings 
of  Charlotte  and  Barbaroux  he  had  attended  in  obedi 
ence  to  her  special  request.  Stationing  himself  near 
the  wall  of  the  apartment  between  two  bookcases, 
there  he  stood  like  a  statue  with  his  arms  folded  on 
his  breast,  while  the  fugitive  and  his  kind  protectress, 
seated  near  a  table  in  the  center  of  the  library,  con 
versed  together.  Barbaroux  was  only  twenty-five 
years  old,  of  the  same  age  with  Charlotte  Corday.  He 
was  a  man  of  considerable  abilities  and  had  some  of 
the  gifts  of  the  orator.  His  eloquence  was  impetuous 
like  his  temper.  He  was  more  vehement  than  logical, 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  33  j 

more  bold  than  tenacious  of  purpose.  He  readily  pro 
duced  a  favorable  impression  by  his  brilliant  qualities 
and  his  manly  beauty,  which  is  reported  to  have  been 
extraordinary.  He  was  possessed  of  elevated  senti 
ments,  but  deficient  in  that  maturity  of  judgment 
which  is  in  most  men  only  the  fruit  of  experience. 
His  patriotism  was  sincere  and  ardent,  and  he  ingrati 
ated  himself  with  all  those  who  approached  him,  by 
the  amiable  frankness  of  his  character.  He  had  a 
poetical  mind,  and  there  is  still  extant  an  ode  by  him 
on  volcanoes,  that  contains  some  passages  of  great 
literary  merit.  He  had  delivered  in  the  National 
Convention  several  speeches  full  of  vigor ;  he  had 
made  excellent  reports  on  matters  of  administration 
and  legislation,  and  written,  in  a  style  worthy  of  com 
mendation,  several  fragments  of  instructive  memoirs 
on  certain  events  of  the  revolution  which  required 
elucidation.  But  his  career  was  destined  to  be  short. 
He  had  attacked  Marat  and  Robespierre ;  and,  being 
deemed  by  them  a  dangerous  adversary,  they  had  re 
solved  to  remove  him  from  the  tribune  of  the  Na 
tional  Convention  to  the  platform  of  the  guillotine. 

It  is  not  astonishing  that  such  a  personage,  made 
still  more  interesting  by  the  touch  of  adversity,  should 
have  produced  the  most  vivid  impression  on  Charlotte 
Corday.  She  loved  to  listen  to  his  picturesque  de 
scriptions  of  the  struggles  he  had  witnessed  and  in 
which  he  had  shared,  and  of  the  celebrated  men  who 
occupied  the  attention  of  the  world.  What  a  gigantic 
drama !  Was  there  ever  one  more  replete  with  awful 
and  sudden  turns  of  fortune?  She  never  tired  of  in 
terrogating  him  on  what  he  had  seen,  heard,  felt,  and 
hoped.  He  threw  light  on  many  of  those  wonderful 
events  which  had  stood  before  her  like  dark  and  im- 


332 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


penetrable  shadows.  As  to  Barbaroux,  the  better  he 
became  acquainted  with  her,  the  greater  was  his  as 
tonishment,  and  the  more  intense  the  admiration  he 
felt  for  her  character.  He  could  hardly  realize  the 
moral  phenomenon  which  was  revealed  to  him.  He 
had  accidentally  met  a  young  and  highly-educated 
woman,  as  foreign  as  the  Coliseum  and  Parthenon  to 
the  age  in  which  she  lived.  It  seemed  as  if  in  her  the 
spirit  of  antiquity  had  been  revived  in  all  its  grand  and 
pristine  simplicity,  and  had  incarnated  itself  with  all 
its  intellectual  chastity  of  taste,  its  sublime  thoughts, 
its  exalted  sentiments,  its  self-sacrificing  and  all-ab 
sorbing  patriotism,  and  its  heroic  philosophy,  such  as 
glow  in  the  pages  of  Plato  and  Plutarch.  By  what  in 
cantation  had  this  beauteous  being  been  evoked  from 
her  marble  tomb,  and  made  again  a  thing  of  life,  such 
as  she  was  centuries  ago,  when  she  moved,  no  doubt, 
and  breathed  like  a  goddess  in  the  porticoes  of  Athens 
or  Rome?  Under  the  spell  which  she  had  thrown 
over  his  soul,  he  felt  that  his  faculties  had  expanded, 
that  his  heart  palpitated  with  nobler  aspirations,  and 
that  his  ambition  had  been  hallowed  as  if  by  a  purify 
ing  flame  from  heaven.  He  had  but  one  thought — • 
one  burning  and  all-engrossing  thought — to  do  some 
great  thing  for  his  country  and  mankind,  and  then 
say  to  her:  "Am  I  worthy  of  your  love?" 

Barbaroux,  with  the  assistance  of  Charlotte,  Grand- 
champ,  and  the  groom  whose  horse  he  had  taken  on 
the  day  of  his  escape  from  his  pursuers,  had  maintained 
constant  communication  with  his  friends,  and  had 
been  informed  that  they  had  levied  a  small  army,  with 
which,  under  the  leadership  of  some  of  the  outlawed 
Girondists,  they  had  taken  a  stand  at  Vernon,  on  the 
banks  of  the  Seine.  Their  intention  was,  if  backed 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


333 


by  Custine,  who  had  the  command  of  the  army  of  the 
North,  to  march  upon  the  Convention  in  Paris  and 
arrest  those  members  who  constituted  what  was  called 
"  the  mountain."  But  the  co-operation  of  that  Gen 
eral  had  failed  them,  and,  attacked  by  superior  forces, 
they  had  been  totally  routed,  at  the  very  time  when 
Barbaroux  was  preparing  to  emerge  from  his  hiding- 
place  and  join  their  ranks.  Defeated  in  his  hopes  in 
that  quarter,  he  had  resolved  to  make  his  way  to  Bor 
deaux,  where  he  relied  on  finding  warm  partisans  of 
his  cause,  and  from  that  city  to  proceed  to  Marseilles 
by  moving  along  the  Mediterranean  coast.  "  There," 
he  had  said  to  Charlotte,  "  I  shall  be  in  my  strong 
hold,  and  if  it  come  to  the  worst — if  we  must  give 
up  the  rest  of  France  to  tyranny  and  sanguinary  mis 
rule—there  we  will  erect  the  standard  of  a  true  repub 
lic.  That  old  city  of  the  Phoceans  has  lungs  in  good 
condition  to  breathe  the  genial  air  of  liberty,  and 
enough  of  stubborn  courage  to  maintain  her  inde 
pendence.  She  once  knew  how  to  resist  the  Cartha 
ginians,  jealous  of  her  commercial  prosperity,  and  did 
not  succumb  to  the  Athenians  when  attacked  by  their 
intrepid  hosts.  Nay,  three  centuries  before  the  Chris 
tian  Era,  she  had  become  the  Athens  of  the  Gauls. 
Her  municipal  administration  was  praised  by  Cicero 
as  a  fit  model  for  imitation.  Her  government  was 
republican  under  the  auspices  of  six  hundred  senators. 
After  many  disasters  which  could  not  crush  her,  she 
remained  an  independent  republic  under  the  protec 
tion  of  Rome,  recovered  her  commercial  importance, 
and  became  famous  for  her  schools.  After  her  annex 
ation  to  the  French  monarchy,  she  had  preserved, 
even  under  Louis  XIV.,  many  privileges  and  fran 
chises,  which  could  not  have  been  taken  away  by  that 


334  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

despot  without  the  most  desperate  resistance.  She 
has  retained  her  instincts  of  liberty  and  the  recollec 
tion  of  her  past  splendor  when  she  was  free.  She 
can,  therefore,  be  relied  upon.  There,  at  all  events, 
being  supported  by  numerous  friends  throughout  the 
rest  of  France,  we  can  make  along  stand,  until  Marat 
and  Robespierre,  who  are  the  sole  obstacles  to  her 
regeneration,  shall  be  swept  away,  as  soon  as  their 
nefarious  designs  are  better  understood  by  the  masses 
whom  they  deceive."  Cherishing  such  hopes,  he  had 
begged  Charlotte  Corday  to  prepare  everything  for 
his  secret  departure,  and  to  provide  him  with  the 
means  of  reaching  Bordeaux  as  speedily  as  circum 
stances  would  permit.  After  several  days,  during 
which  she  had  cautiously  planned  the  execution  of  his 
contemplated  design,  Charlotte  sent  word  to  Barba- 
roux  that  all  was  ready,  and  that  she  would  meet  him 
in  the  library  at  the  usual  hour.  When  it  struck,  she 
entered  the  room  with  Grandchamp  bearing  in  his 
hands  a  large  bundle. 

"  My  poor  prisoner,"  she  said  to  Barbaroux,  "  I 
have  been  successful  in  accomplishing  your  wishes. 
You  will  soon  be  on  the  wing  with  the  lark.  Before 
daybreak,  a  wagoner  will  meet  you  at  the  small  gate 
of  the  park.  Grandchamp  will  take  you  to  him.  You 
will  find  in  this  bundle  all  that  is  necessary  for  a  com 
plete  disguise  of  your  person.  The  wagoner  can  be 
trusted,  and  is  a  man  well  known  on  the  roads  from 
Normandy  to  Bordeaux,  on  which  he  frequently  trav 
els.  You  will  pass  for  his  nephew,  whom  he  has  lately 
associated  in  business  with  himself." 

Barbaroux  returned  his  acknowledgments,  and 
begged,  as  they  were  to  part  perhaps  forever,  that  she 
would  be  pleased  to  prolong,  as  much  as  possible,  an 


A  USER T  D UBA  YET.  335 

interview  which  was  to  be  followed  by  a  painful  sep 
aration.  Graciously  assenting,  she  beckoned  him  to  a 
seat,  and  took  one  for  herself,  whilst  Grandchamp  oc 
cupied  his  post  as  usual  between  the  two  bookcases. 
Never  had  Barbaroux  been  more  interesting  in  the 
expression  of  his  views,  feelings,  and  hopes.  Never 
had  he  with  more  sympathetic  and  contagious  ardor 
spoken  of  that  future  which  he  saw  so  glorious  for 
France  and  for  himself.  The  soul  of  Charlotte  Cor- 
day  responded  to  his  with  all  the  enthusiasm  of  her 
nature,  which  had  been  made  more  vehement  by  her 
peculiar  training  under  her  uncle's  supervision.  Two 
young  and  generous  hearts  they  were,  full  of  noble 
illusions  and  high  resolves,  dreaming,  alas,  of  impossi 
bilities  and  of  things  which  are  not  of  earth.  Let  them 
enjoy  the  flitting  hour  which  was  never  to  return  ;  for, 
near  them,  although  invisible,  yawned  a  bloody  grave  ! 
In  a  delightful  interchange  of  congenial  aspirations, 
they  were  unconscious  of  the  flight  of  time,  when  the 
announcement  of  midnight  came  solemnly  to  their 
astonished  ears  from  the  belfry  of  the  neighboring 
village.  Startled  at  the  sound,  Charlotte  rose  from 
her  seat. 

"  Barbaroux,"  she  said,  "  I  have  lingered  too  long. 
We  must  part.  Farewell ! "  and  she  tendered  her 
hand  to  him,  which  he  took  eagerly,  and  on  which  he 
imprinted  a  respectful  kiss,  in  token  of  such  profound 
homage  as  a  loyal  subject  pays  to  his  sovereign. 

"  Dear  Charlotte,"  he  replied  with  emotion,  "  you 
have  saved  my  life  and  periled  yours  for  my  sake. 
This  has  established  between  us  such  ties  as  author 
ize  me  to  use  the  word  which  I  have  coupled  with 
your  name,  and  which  bursts  from  a  more  than  grate 
ful  heart,  for  I  am  a  lover — but  one  whose  love  is 


336  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

so  strangely  mixed  with  sentiments  akin  to  what  must 
be  felt  toward  an  object  of  divine  worship,  that  I  can 
not  address  you  in  the  ordinary  language  of  common 
place  passion.  I  will  only  say:  permit  me  in  the  pres 
ence  and  with  the  sanction  of  that  venerable  servant  of 
your  house,  who  watches  over  it  with  hereditary  de 
votion,  permit  me,  ere  we  part,  to  pledge  to  you  my 
faith,  which  I  hope  soon  to  redeem  in  more  auspicious 
times,"  and  he  knelt  at  her  feet. 

A  slight  blush  overspread  the  beautiful,  serene  face 
of  Charlotte  Corday,  but  it  vanished  like  the  flash  of 
the  lightning.  "  Rise,  my  noble  friend ;  rise,  I  be 
seech  you,"  she  said  in  gentle  tones.  "  I  thank  you 
for  the  honor  you  do  me ;  I  thank  you  for  not  ad 
dressing  me  with  the  expressions  of  vulgar  passion. 
There  is  no  mortal  lover  whose  vows  Charlotte  Cor 
day  could  accept.  I  am  wedded — start  not — wedded," 
continued  she,  with  a  smile,  "  to  one  of  those  heroes 
of  antiquity  among  whom  I  have  always  lived.  Choose 
which  you  please — it  matters  not.  I  long  to  join 
those  sublime  beings  who  dwelt  in  the  distant  past, 
and  whom  my  imagination  cherishes  as  realities  of  the 
present.  Hence  the  seclusion  and  solitude  of  my  ex 
istence.  I  have  always  felt  as  if  in  a  state  of  widow 
hood.  Seek  not  to  kindle  love  in  my  heart.  My  love 
is  buried  under  the  ashes  of  ages.  My  friendship  you 
have.  If  you  value  it,  go  on  in  the  path  of  glory. 
Save  France  from  tyranny — think  not  of  woman  when 
your  country  calls  you  to  the  rescue ;  be  a  modern 
hero  ;  let  that  be  your  mission  ;  I  have  mine.  It  is  to 
co-operate  with  you  as  much  as  may  be  in  my  power. 
You  shall  know  in  time  what  I  meditate.  Farewell 
again.  Grandchamp,  I  commit  him  to  your  care.  Do 
not  leave  him  until  he  is  safe  on  the  way.  Farewell, 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


337 


Barbaroux ;    farewell,   my   dear   friend."     And    they 
parted,  never  to  meet  again  on  earth. 

Four  weeks  had  elapsed,  when  a  trusty  messenger 
delivered  to  Charlotte  a  scrap  of  paper  which  con 
tained  these  words : 

"  BORDEAUX,  July,  1793. 

"  NOBLE  AND  DEAR  FRIEND  : — I  found  the  reign  of 
terror  prevailing  here  as  in  Paris.  The'whole  popu 
lation  is  paralyzed  by  abject  fear.  I  am  in  the  hands 
of  the  emissaries  of  Marat,  the  butcher  of  France. 
Before  long  I  shall  die  on  the  scaffold.  May  we  meet 
in  the  Elysian  Fields  among  your  favorite  heroes  of 
antiquity.  BARBAROUX." 

She  kissed  the  note,  and  put  it  in  her  bosom  ;  then 
she  walked  to  the  library,  and,  taking  down  from  one 
of  the  shelves  the  "  Phedo  of  Plato,"  in  which  the 
question  of  the  immortality  of  the  soul  is  so  luminous 
ly  and  eloquently  discussed,  she  read  it  attentively, 
until  her  eyes  straying  from  the  book  and  her  mind 
lapsing  into  a  state  of  abstraction,  she  remained  a. 
long  while  motionless — the  statue  of  meditation.  At 
last,  she  raised  her  head,  and  her  looks  fell  on  the  bust 
of  Brutus.  She  rose  and  approached  the  sculptured 
image.  "  No,  Brutus,  no,"  she  exclaimed.  "  It  is  not 
true,  what  thou  once  didst  say.  It  is  not  true,  that 
virtue  is  nothing  but  a  name,  for  it  lived  in  thee,  it 
has  lived  ever  since,  and  it  is  because  it  will  live  for 
ever,  an  ennobling  and  consoling  reality,  that  thy 
memory  has  ever  been  honored,  and  that  thy  exam 
ple  shall  ever  be  followed,  as  long  as  man  shall  de 
serve  to  be  free.  With  despair  in  thy  heart,  thou 
hast  perished  for  Rome.  With  hope  in  mine,  I  shall 
die  for  France."  She  rang  a  bell ;  the  old  steward 


338  *  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

made  his  appearance,  and  stood  before  her  in  the  atti 
tude  of  a  soldier  waiting  for  the  command  of  his  supe 
rior.  "  Grandchamp,"  she  said,  "  I  depart  this  evening 
for  Paris.  You  will  hasten  to  Seez,  and  secure  for 
me  a  seat  in  the  public  coach." 

"Alone?"  inquired  Grandchamp,  looking  fixedly 
at  her. 

"Alone."  - 

"  It  is  well.  Has  Mademoiselle  informed  her  aunt 
of  her  intended  departure?  " 

"  No.  It  would  give  her  unnecessary  alarm.  I  could 
not  explain  to  her  the  important  business  which  calls 
me  away.  It  is  a  secret.  Give  her  what  excuse  you 
please  for  my  absence.  I  commend  her  to  your 
care." 

"  The  will  of  the  last  of  the  Cordays  be  done  in  all 
things ! "  ejaculated  the  old  man,  with  an  air  of 
solemn  resignation,  and  with  his  harsh  voice,  now  be 
come  slightly  tremulous,  as  if  from  some  sudden  emo 
tion.  Charlotte  looked  at  him  with  inexpressible 
tenderness.  "  Grandchamp,"  she  said,  "  let  me  em 
brace  you,"  and  she  threw  herself  upon  his  breast 
with  tears  and  sobs.  The  aged  servant  folded  her  in 
his  arms,  kissed  her  brow,  and  muttered,  in  broken 
accents  :  "  The  will  of  the  last  of  the  Cordays  be  done 
in  all  things !  " 

When  Charlotte  Corday  arrived  in  Paris,  she  was  in 
formed  that  twenty-one  Girondists  had  been  seized  and 
were  in  prison,  awaiting  their  trial.  All  knew  what  in 
those  days  a  trial  meant.  It  was  a  mere  formality, 
rapidly  gone  through,  previous  to  passing  the  sentence 
of  death.  It  was  a  sort  of  mechanical  operation — the 
stamping  of  victims  for  the  scaffold  as  letters  are  for 
the  post-office.  Charlotte  attended  the  sessions  of 


A  UBER T  D UBA  YET. 

the  National  Convention,  and  found  that  the  scenes 
which  she  witnessed  were  far  more  horrible  than 
those  of  which  she  had  heard  or  read.  Once  she  saw 
Marat  in  his  seat,  and  the  hideousness  of  the  monster 
strengthened  the  resolution  which  she  had  taken.  He 
affected  to  speak  in  the  vilest  jargon  used  by  the  popu 
lace,  and  to  dress  like  the  lowest  of  those  whom  he  rep 
resented.  A  round  hat,  shorn  of  its  brim,  much  torn, 
and  battered  into  an  almost  shapeless  form,  covered 
his  enormous  head,  which  looked  as  if  it  would  crush 
the  body  of  the  filthy  dwarf.  His  greasy  and  un 
combed  black  hair  was  tied  round  his  temples  by  a 
piece  of  coarse  twine,  that  strove  in  vain  to  confine 
his  disheveled  locks.  He  sported  a  rough,  shaggy 
overcoat,  with  multitudinous  stains,  and  with  a  dis 
colored  velvet  collar.  He  had  on  leather  breeches; 
his  gray  woolen  stockings  fell  over  his  heels,  and  his 
heavy,  iron-nailed  shoes  were  remarkable  for  the  in 
genuity  with  which  so  many  patches  on  them  were 
made  to  hang  together.  He  was  several  days,  how 
ever,  without  showing  himself  again,  and  it  was 
rumored  that  "  the  Friend  of  the  People "  was  ex 
hausted  by  the  excess  of  his  labors,  and  would  remain 
for  awhile  at  home  to  recuperate,  before  reappearing 
at  the  tribune  to  ask  for  the  heads  of  the  incarcerated 
Girondists. 

Charlotte  wrote  to  Marat  the  following  note : 
"  Citizen,  I  arrive  from  Normandy.  Your  love  for  your 
country  makes  you  desire,  no  doubt,  to  know  what 
events  have  taken  place  in  that  section  of  the  repub 
lic.  I  will  present  myself  at  your  lodgings,  with  your 
permission,  at  one  o'clock.  Be  so  kind  as  to  receive 
me.  I  will  enable  you  to  render  a  great  service  to 
France."  This  application  was  not  answered  ;  another 


340 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


was  sent,  and  met  with  the  same  fate.  Shortly  after, 
she  addressed  him  a  third  letter,  in  which  she  spoke 
of  "  important  secrets  which  she  had  to  reveal,"  and 
called  herself  in  person  a  few  minutes  after  she  had 
ascertained  that  it  had  been  delivered.  She  asked  for 
admittance :  it  was  refused  by  two  women  whom  she 
met  in  the  ante-chamber,  and  who  opposed  her  efforts 
to  go  farther.  One  of  them  was  Marat's  concubine. 
He  was  just  coming  out  of  a  bath,  and,  judging  from 
a  few  words  which  he  overheard  that  it  was  the  per 
son  who  had  written  to  him,  he  ordered  her  to  be 
introduced.  He  was  wrapped  in  a  loose  morning 
gown,  and,  with  cynical  carelessness,  left  his  shaggy 
breast  exposed.  The  conversation  was  short. 

"What  do  you  want?"  said  Marat  roughly. 
"  What  are  the  secrets  to  be  revealed  ?  " 

"  The  mayors  and  other  administrative  officers  of 
Caen  and  Evreux,"  she  replied,  "  are  aristocrats.  I 
come  to  denounce  them." 

"  Who  are  they?"  and,  with  fiendish  glee,  he  wrote 
down  the  fictitious  names  which  were  given  to  him. 
"  You  may  be  sure  that  they  shall  die.  What  next  ?  " 

"  As  a  reward  for  what  I  have  done,  will  you  grant 
me  the  lives  of  some  of  the  Girondists?  I  have  a 
friend  among  them." 

"  No  !  "  answered  Marat,  chuckling.  "  All  that  I 
can  do  is  to  give  you  their  heads  as  keepsakes.  Choose 
your  friends  better." 

"  If  I  make  known  to  you,"  continued  Charlotte 
Corday,  "  one  who  is  ready  to  assassinate  you,  will 
you  grant  the  lives  I  sue  for?  " 

"  No  ! "  shouted  Marat,  with  mixed  anger  and  fear. 
"  Not  one  life  shall  I  spare.  But  I  will  have  you  ar 
rested  instantly." 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  34  j 

"Then  die,  tyrant  !  "  she  exclaimed,  and  she  buried 
in  his  heart,  up  to  the  hilt,  a  dagger  that  she  had  con 
cealed  about  her  person.  "  Help,  my  dear,"  cried 
Marat,  calling  to  his  concubine  in  the  next  room. 
That  was  all  he  could  say.  The  blow  had  been  so 
well  struck  that  he  died  instantly.  The  two  women 
who  had  heard  his  voice,  rushed  in.  Charlotte  made 
no  effort  to  escape.  She  stood  motionless,  pressing  the 
bloody  dagger  to  her  breast,  and  with  her  eyes  lifted 
up  to  Heaven,  as  if  thanking  the  Gods  for  her  success. 
Charlotte  Corday  was  soon  in  the  hands  of  an  officer 
of  justice. 

As  to  Marat,  his  death  was  cruelly  avenged  by  the 
sacrifice  of  hecatombs  of  victims,  and  extraordinary 
honors  were  granted  to  his  memory,  as  if  he  had  been 
the  best  and  the  greatest  citizen  of  the  new  republic. 
Triumphal  arches  and  provisional  mausoleums  were 
erected  on  the  principal  public  squares  of  Paris  ;  and  on 
the  one  called  Le  Carrousel,  between  the  Tuileries  and 
the  Louvre,  a  pyramid  was  constructed,  in  which  were 
exhibited  his  bust,  his  bath-tub,  his  inkstand,  and  his 
lamp.  It  was  guarded  by  sentinels  day  and  night. 
His  corpse  was  carried  to  the  Pantheon,  the  last  asy 
lum  reserved  for  the  illustrious  dead — the  pagan 
Westminster  of  France.  His  bust  was  solemnly  in 
stalled  in  every  public  edifice  throughout  the  repub 
lic,  and,  in  many  private  ones,  was  conspicuously  ex 
hibited  as  the  image  of  some  household  god. 

There  could  not  be  discovered  a  single  moment  of 
weakness  in  Charlotte  Corday  during  all  her  trial  be 
fore  the  revolutionary  tribunal.  There  was  in  her 
deportment  no  sign  of  affectation,  no  trace  of  exag 
geration.  Throughout  the  examination  she  had  to 
undergo,  her  answers  were  simple,  concise,  and  sweet- 


342 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


tempered.  Once,  observing  that  somebody  was 
drawing  her  portrait,  she  turned  toward  him  to  afford 
a  better  view  of  her  person.  If  she  wished  merely  to 
oblige,  it  was  wondrously  kind  under  such  terrible 
circumstances  ;  if  it  was  to  have  her  features  trans 
mitted  to  posterity,  was  it  exceptionable  in  the  woman 
and  in  the  heroine?  She  was  provided  by  the  court 
with  a  counsel  for  her  defense  ;  his  name  was  Chateau 
Lagarde.  His  defense  of  his  client  was  marked  with 
Spartan  brevity.  "  I  believe,"  he  said,  "  that  I  have 
read  the  soul  of  the  accused,  and  that  it  stands  re 
vealed  to  me.  Understanding,  I  am  sure,  how  she 
wishes  to  be  defended,  I  have  only  to  declare  in  her 
name  that  she  confesses  what  she  has  done,  and  avers 
that  it  was  a  homicide  long  premeditated,  matured 
with  care,  executed  without  fear,  and  remembered 
without  remorse !  "  That  was  all,  and  he  sat  down. 
The  accused  thanked  him  with  noble  simplicity  and 
infinite  grace  of  manner  for  having  comprehended  her 
so  well.  She  added  :  "  In  my  turn,  I  wish  to  show 
you  that  I  understand  your  soul  as  you  do  mine. 
As  a  proof  of  it,  considering  that  all  my  property 
will  be  confiscated,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  request  you 
to  pay  the  small  debts  which  I  have  incurred  in  my 
prison."  She  listened  with  calm  fortitude  to  her  sen 
tence  of  death.  In  the  cart  which  took  her  to  the 
scaffold,  she  showed  the  same  sublime  serenity.  On 
that  day,  the  most  humiliating  spectacle,  because  the 
most  disgraceful,  was  exhibited  in  one  of  the  largest 
cities  of  civilized  Europe.  A  woman,  abandoned  by 
all,  having  no  other  support  than  her  own  soul,  no 
other  comforter  than  the  conviction  of  having  done 
her  duty,  entitled  to  all  the  interest  which  her  sex 
has  a  right  to  claim,  endowed  with  surpassing  beauty, 
blooming  with  all  the  freshness  of  youth,  manifesting 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


343 


a  degree  of  heroism  which,  if  misconceived,  had  never 
been  excelled,  might  surely  have  been  thought  worthy 
of  "enthusiastic  admiration.  And  yet,  what  happen 
ed  ?  More  than  twenty  thousand  men  pursued  her 
with  clamorous  insults,  whilst  as  many  looked  at  her 
in  cold  blood  and  with  stupid  indifference,  or  heartless 
curiosity.  But  she  noticed  them  not — no,  not  one 
instant.  She  passed  between  them  like  an  impassible 
apparition  from  a  purer  sphere.  Perhaps,  with  her 
mind's  eye,  she  saw  gathered  round  her  as  an  encour 
aging  escort,  and  waving  their  laurel  crowns  to  their 
future  companion,  disembodied  spirits  with  the  halo 
of  immortality  on  their  brows.  The  only  emotion 
which  she  showed  was  that  of  offended  modesty,  when 
the  public  executioner  removed  the  kerchief  covering 
her  bosom  and  the  neck  on  which  his  ax  was  to  fall. 
Let  it  be  recorded,  to  the  honor  of  humanity,  that 
four  men  dared  to  publicly  praise  Charlotte  Corday 
shortly  after  her  death.  Three  were  executed  for  it. 
One  of  them,  who  had  caused  to  be  printed  a  eulogy 
of  that  heroine,  and  who  had  proposed  to  have  a  statue 
erected  to  her  memory,  with  this  inscription, 
"  Greater  than  Brutus,"  exclaimed,  when  he  was 
brought  to  the  block  :  "  I  am  happy  to  die  for  Char 
lotte  Corday,  and  on  the  same  scaffold." 

True,  she  was  greater  than  Brutus,  for  she  was  a 
woman,  and  her  motives  were  probably  purer  and 
more  disinterested.  She  was  a  beautiful  specimen  of 
pagan,  but  not  Christian  heroism.  To  murder,  even 
for  a  noble  purpose,  is  not  sanctioned  by  the  ethics 
of  the  Gospel.  It  is  impossible,  however,  not  to  take 
pleasure  in  admiring  her  magnificent  self-sacrifice,  not 
withstanding  the  stern  admonition  of  Montesquieu, 
who  says :  "  It  is  that  heroism  which  is  destructive  of 
morality  that  excites  the  most  our  admiration." 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

THE   LAST   BANQUET  OF  THE   GIRONDISTS. 

"BLOOD  will  have  blood,"  is  a  phrase  which  has 
become  axiomatic,  and  history  informs  us  that  politi 
cal  assassinations  never  answer  the  purpose  for  which 
they  were  perpetrated.  The  blow  which  Brutus 
struck  at  Caesar  in  the  Senate  of  Rome,  rather  con 
solidated  tyranny  than  re-established  liberty,  and  the 
death  of  Marat  by  the  dagger  of  Charlotte  Corday, 
instead  of  saving  the  Girondists,  was  a  pretext  for 
Robespierre  to  send  them  to  the  scaffold,  and  adopt 
measures  of  proscription  that  gave  rise  in  France  to 
that  condition  of  things  which  will  ever  be  known  in 
the  annals  of  that  country  as  being  emphatically  "  the 
reign  of  terror."  About  three  months  after  Marat 
had  perished,  and  been  put  among  the  new  gods  of 
the  republic  after  the  mythological  fashion  of  Rome 
and  Greece,  twenty-one  Girondists  had  been  brought 
before  the  revolutionary  tribunal  of  justice  and  sen 
tenced  to  be  executed  the  next  day.  At  that  epoch, 
a  prison  was  called  "  the  ante-chamber  to  the  guillo 
tine."  Those  who  were  taken  to  that  ante-chamber, 
generally  did  not  wait  long  for  an  introduction  to  her 
ladyship.  She  administered  an  expeditious  mode  of 
death,  which  was  said  to  be  less  painful  than  any  one 
previously  practiced  by  public  executioners,  and  which 
could  not  be  disgraceful,  since  it  was  inflicted  on  the 
(344) 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  345 

elite  of  the  nation  merely  because  it  was  the  elite.  It 
is,  therefore,  singular  that  so  many  persons,  when  ar 
rested,  should  have  resolved  to  escape  by  suicide  the 
easy  and  honorable  death  awarded  by  the  guillotine. 
But,  to  imitate  antiquity  was  the  prevailing  mania, 
and,  as  suicides  were  deemed  heroic  deeds,  every  man 
thought  himself  a  Brutus,  or  a  Cato,  if  he  blew  out 
his  brains,  or  opened  his  bowels.  It  was  a  pagan  cus 
tom  worthy  of  being  followed — the  more  so,  perhaps, 
because  it  was  reprobated  by  the  Christian  religion, 
which  the  republicans,  philosophers,  and  progressists 
of  the  day,  like  Julian  the  apostate,  wished  to  set 
aside  by  the  revival  of  the  superseded  worship  of  the 
gods  and  goddesses.  Thus  Valaze,  one  of  the  Giron 
dists  who  had  been  put  on  their  trial,  when  sentenced 
to  the  guillotine,  struck  himself  to  the  heart  with  a 
concealed  weapon  and  fell  dead  in  court.  It  was 
thought  dramatic  and  sublime.  It  certainly  was  sen 
sational.  The  corpse  was  carried  back  to  jail  with  the 
surviving  twenty,  and  there  a  scene  took  place  which 
could  have  happened  only  in  France,  and  which 
shows,  more  impressively  than  anything  else,  the  moral 
condition  of  the  people  at  that  time.  The  Girondists 
were  admitted  to  be  the  most  high-toned  among  the 
members  of  the  Convention,  and  yet,  on  the  eve  of 
death,  how  did  they  prepare  themselves  to  meet  their 
Creator  and  close  a  life  that  entailed,  on  some  of  them 
at  least,  a  responsibility  from  which,  if  properly  con 
scious  of  it,  stouter  hearts  might  have  shrunk  with 
terror?  Their  last  and  engrossing  thought  seems  to 
have  been  to  take  striking  attitudes  before  the  world 
like  actors  on  the  stage,  and  to  dramatize  their  end. 
With  the  corpse  of  one  of  their  companions  lying  in 
a  corner  of  the  room,  they  conceived  the  idea  of 
15* 


346  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

having  a  final  exit  banquet,  in  which,  although  death 
might  be  said  to  be  seated  at  the  board,  they  would, 
notwithstanding  his  grim  presence,  enjoy  the  flitting 
hours,  and  not  only  prove  themselves  philosophically 
unconcerned  about  their  fate,  but  even  show  more 
gaiety,  wit,  and  eloquence  than  on  ordinary  occasions. 
As  they  entertained  different  and  antagonistic  opin 
ions  and  feelings,  some  toasted  the  republic,  and 
others,  royalty.  They  drank  to  their  wives  and  mis 
tresses,  among  whom  were  some  of  the  most  notori 
ous  courtesans  of  the  epoch,  who  were  mentioned  by 
name,  such  as  the  "  brunette  Gabrielle "  and  the 
"  giddy  Illyrine."  Wives  and  mistresses  toasted  to 
gether  in  festive  association  !  The  parade  of  worldly 
sentiments  and  of  skepticism  in  sight  of  the  scaffold, 
and  at  that  awful  moment  which  summons  us  to  a 
separation  of  soul  and  body,  with  its  unknown  conse 
quences  !  And  these  were  some  of  the  men  who  had 
the  pretension  to  establish  forever  the  "  virtuous  re 
public  "  announced  by  Robespierre,  and  who  had 
thought  themselves  capable  of  being  the  leaders  of  a 
great  nation  !  It  is  singular  that  every  French  writer 
who  speaks  of  that  supper  of  the  Girondists,  treats  it 
as  one  of  the  most  impressive  and  sublime  scenes  on 
record.  Thus  the  historian  Thiers  says  with  an  evi 
dent  feeling  of  complacency :  "  They  took  in  com 
mon  their  last  repast,  in  which  they  were  alternately 
gay,  grave,  eloquent."  Twenty  patriots  carousing 
gaily  and  talking  wittily  and  eloquently,  not  only  over 
the  graves  that  expected  them,  but  even  over  the 
grave  of  that  liberty  which  they  cherished  so  much, 
as  the  greatest  blessing  their  country  could  obtain  ! 
And  under  what  circumstances?  When  that  country 
was  a  volcano,  torn  by  its  internal  throes,  when  for- 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  347 

eign  armies  were  threatening  it  on  every  side,  when 
cartloads  of  women  and  men  were  butchered  every 
day,  when  they  themselves  left  their  families  in  utter 
destitution  and  in  the  agonies  of  despair,  and  when 
such  horrors  were  perpetrated  in  their  capital  as  no 
civilized  society  had  ever  seen  before !  No,  their 
hearts  were  not,  could  not  be,  in  it.  To  act  as  they 
did  is  not  in  human  nature,  and  it  is  not  to  be  sup 
posed  that  there  is  a  peculiar  French  nature  which  is 
an  exception  to  it.  They  were  acting  a  part — acting 
like  madmen,  more  intoxicated  with  the  fumes  of  an 
excessive  vanity  than  with  those  of  the  wine  they 
drank.  Their  hearts  were  misled  and  their  minds 
crazed  by  the  extraordinary  moral  disease  which,  for 
more  than  half  a  century,  had  possessed  itself  of  that 
once  glorious  and  Christian  nation — glorious  still,  but 
now  skeptic  in  everything  and  pitied  by  those  who 
loved  her  the  best,  at  the  very  moment  when,  in  her 
fatal  convulsions  and  illusions,  she  thought  herself 
the  light  and  the  guide  of  the  world. 

I  shall  give  a  mere  sketch  of  that  celebrated 
banquet,  leaving  out  of  sight  all  that  is  impure,  and 
presenting  only  the  side  view  which  is  the  least  ob 
jectionable.  That  last  banquet  of  the  Girondists  was 
a  mere  bravado  offered  to  God  and  man,  which  is  no 
more  like  the  sublimity  of  true  moral  courage  than 
the  vaporings  of  Orlando  Furioso  are  like  the  serene 
intrepidity  of  a  Christian  martyr.  If  we,  Americans, 
wish  to  form  a  correct  estimate  of  the  exhibition 
made  by  the  Girondists  on  that  occasion,  we  have 
only  to  fancy  that  England  had  triumphed  in  that 
war  for  independence  carried  against  her  by  her  re 
volted  colonies ;  that  Washington,  Franklin,  John 
Adams,  Thomas  Jefferson,  Alexander  Hamilton,  and 


348  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

others  of  the  great  men  of  our  revolution  are  sen 
tenced  to  death,  and  that,  a  few  hours  before  their  ex 
ecution,  they  are  feasting  together  in  their  prison, 
drinking  madeira,  sherry,  and  champagne,  cracking 
jokes  at  each  other,  toasting  their  wives  and  mistresses, 
or  s,ome  of  the  belles  of  New  York,  Philadelphia,  or 
Boston,  saying  smart  and  pithy  things  about  forms 
of  government  and  other  matters,  making  a  parade  of 
stoicism,  wit,  and  erudition,  whilst  entirely  forgetful 
of  their  God,  their  souls,  and  their  country !  Could 
any  conception  so  absurd,  or  execrable,  spring  up  in 
the  brain  of  any  American  ?  Is  there  not  even  some 
thing  ridiculous  in  the  bare  idea  of  the  possibility  of 
such  a  scene?  But  let  us  go  back  to  the  Girondists 
and  listen  to  them  whilst  seated  at  table,  and,  to  use 
their  language,  making  their  last  libation  to  the  Gods 
— that  is,  if  they  believed  in  any  god  whatever. 

"  I  drink,"  *  said  Mainvielle,  "  to  all  and  every  one 
of  our  colleagues  among  the  Girondists  who  are  still 
free,  and  I  wish  them  success  against  Robespierre  and 
his  acolyths." 

Ducos.  "  I  drink  to  the  republic,  one  and  indivisi 
ble." 

Vergniaud.  "  The  republic  !  I  give  it  up.  It  is  a 
phantasma  of  the  brain — an  idle  chimera — a  bauble  for 
the  enthusiastic  imagination  of  youth  to  play  with. 
Remember  the  words  of  Barbaroux,  who,  like  us,  had 
lost  all  faith  in  that  which  he  once  worshiped.  '  If  I 
could  recommence  life,'  he  said,  '  I  would  consecrate  it 
entirely  to  those  noble  studies  which  raise  the  thoughts 
of  man  above  the  goods  of  the  earth,  and  I  would 
riot  venture  on  attempting  to  give  free  institutions  to  a 


*  Charles  Nodier's  "  Girondists." 


•A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  349 

people  destitute  of  all  morality.  The  howling  and 
maniac  populace  of  France  is  no  more  worthy  of  a 
philosophical  government  than  the  lazaroni  of  Naples 
and  the  cannibals  of  the  New  World.'  Barbaroux 
spoke  the  truth.  A  man,  if  he  is  wise,  may,  in  his 
leisure  hours,  indulge  in  dreaming  of  the  republican 
Utopias  of  Plato,  Thomas  Morus,  and  our  dear  Madam 
Roland,  who  knew  at  last,  when  at  the  foot  of  the 
scaffold,  what  crimes  can  be  perpetrated  in  the  name 
of  liberty,  but  he  does  not  seriously  think  of  realizing 
shadows.  We  have  all  been  insane,  and  we  shall  soon 
be  cured  by  the  guillotine.  Let  us  sacrifice  a  cock  to 
Esculapius. 

Gensonm.  "  Decidedly,  Vergniaud,  you  seem  to 
believe  no  longer  in  liberty." 

Vergniaud.  "  If  liberty  were  a  goddess  descending 
among  us  with  her  hands  full  of  blessings,  I  would 
worship  her ;  but  I  execrate  the  fury  who  makes  men 
drunk  and  then  devours  them.  Altars  would  never 
have  been  erected  to  the  sun,  if  it  had  always  ap 
peared  escorted  by  tempests  and  desolation." 

Fonfrtde.  "  Has  not  nature  herself  prescribed 
social  equality,  or  is  it  but  a  vain  word?" 

Vergniaud.  "  Who  ever  heard  of  social  equality 
among  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  of  whom  we  talk  so 
much,  and  whom  we  are  so  anxious  to  imitate?  As 
to  social  equality  being  prescribed  by  nature,  it  is  a 
cant  phrase,  like  many  others  by  which  simpletons 
are  deluded !  There  is  not  the  slightest  vestige  of 
equality  whatever  in  anything  which  nature  produces. 
If  social  equality  could  exist — which  I  consider  an 
impossibility — it  would  be  the  most  odious  and  most 
unendurable  of  all  tyrannies.  Have  you  not  heard 
of  Procrustes  ?  That  monster  had  contrived  an  iron 


350  ^  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

bed  with  which  he  accommodated  all  travelers  who 
claimed  his  hospitality.  He  stretched  and  dislocated 
those  who  were  shorter  than  the  bed,  and  mutilated 
those  whose  limbs  protruded  beyond  it.  That  is 
social  equality." 

Brissot.  "  Fraternity  and  social  equality  might  be 
established  among  men  who,  acknowledging  the  er 
rors  and  miseries  of  civilization,  have  returned  to  the 
innocence  of  primitive  tribes." 

Vergniaud.  "  Abel  and  Cain  were  primitive  enough, 
God  knows,  and  yet  what  a  specimen  of  fraternity !  " 

Brissot,  "  I  will,  in  dying,  address  to  the  republic 
a  salutation  full  of  regret  and  hope." 

Vergniaud.  "And  I  also  will  address  her  a  saluta 
tion — the  salutation  of  the  vanquished  gladiator  to 
Caesar.  But  I  shall  carry  with  me  in  my  mourning 
heart  the  image  of  that  sublime  revolution  which  my 
mind  had  conceived.  Thus,  what  remained  of  the 
monarchy  died  with  Mirabeau." 

Brissot.  "  Let  us  hope  that  Vergniaud,  dying,  has 
only  seen  the  cradle  of  Hercules." 

Vergniaud.  "  Pshaw  !  Hercules  in  his  cradle  stran 
gled  serpents,  and  did  not  vomit  them." 

Brissot.  "  We  have  legislated  like  Moses,  in  a 
tempest.  Let  us  flatter  ourselves,  however,  that  our 
republic,  like  his  laws,  will  live  forever." 

Fauchet.  "  Moses!  His  laws  came  from  Heaven, 
tempestuous  as  it  was;  yours,  from  the  abyss  below." 

Vergniaud.  "  There  is  in  decrepitude  a  sterility 
which  prevents  old  nations  from  giving  birth  to 
youthful  institutions.  The  idea  that  a  monarchy  of 
one  thousand  years  can  be  successfully  transformed 
into  a  vigorous  and  long-lived  republic  is  absurd. 
Too  much  must  be  destroyed  to  operate  the  change. 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  35  \ 

It  can  not  be  done  without  a  general  conflagration. 
What  would  be  the  result  ?  Nothing  but  ashes — 
two  fathoms  deep  of  ashes  over  the  whole  bosom  of 
France !  Well,  we  know  that  nothing  comes  out  of 
ashes,  except  the  phoenix.  But  it  is  from  its  own 
ashes  that  the  eternal  bird  springs  into  regenerated 
life.  Shall  a  new  monarchy,  phoenix-like,  come  out 
of  the  ashes  of  the  old  one  which  has  been  consumed? 
I  doubt  it.  I  am  afraid  that  posterity  will  see  re 
publics  constructing  monarchies — monarchies  recon 
structing  republics — and  then  chaos." 

Brissot.  "  The  English  monarchy  is  not  chaos. 
It  presides  over  the  civilization  of  two  worlds.  Much 
as  I  detest  those  islanders,  I  must  make  this  admis 
sion." 

Vergniaud.  "  The  present  English  monarchy  was 
born  yesterday — born  of  a  republic — and  there  is  no 
telling  how  soon  it  may  end  in  one.  Who  can  fovre- 
see  what  it  will  be?" 

Brissot.  "  The  North  Americans  are  not  a  new 
people — their  civilization  is  borrowed  from  Europe, 
and  yet  they  have  established  a  prosperous  republic." 

Vergniaud.  "  The  monarchy  of  France  gave  birth 
to  that  republic,  and  lost  her  life  by  it.  But  what 
will  become  of  the  child,  is  a  question  to  be  solved 
by  time.  That  republic,  with  the  co-operation  of 
France,  was  born  out  of  the  womb  of  an  abstract 
idea,  as  the  statue  of  Pygmalion  was  born  of  marble. 
To  that  creation  of  genius,  life  was  granted  by  the 
goddess  of  beauty,  at  the  invocation  of  love,  but  no 
soul,  and  it  was  denied  the  power  of  reproduction. 
It  never  had  a  mother,  and  never  was  destined  to  be 
one.  The  United  States  have  no  ancestry,  no  poet 
ical  past,  nothing  for  the  imagination  to  dwell  upon. 


352  ^  USER T  D UBA  YE  T. 

Hence  they  can  have  no  real  and  deep-rooted  patriot 
ism.  It  is  a  sentiment  which  springs  from  the  heart 
alone,  and  the  heart  is  not  warmed  by  reason,  which 
is  as  cold  as  ice.  Nothing  durable  can  ever  be  found 
ed  simply  on  moral  ideas.  The  principle  of  life  which 
is  indispensable  to  social  or  political  creations  is  not 
the  doctrine  of  the  philosopher,  or  the  erudite  expe 
rience  of  the  legislator;  it  is  imparted  by  the  nymph 
of  the  poet  and  the  fairy  rod  of  the  romance  writer. 
Homer  did  more  to  inspire  Greece  with  patriotism 
than  all  its  Solons  and  Lycurguses.  Even  the  insti 
tutions  inspired  by  the  wisdom  of  Numa  would  not 
have  been  adopted  by  the  Romans,  if  not  sanctioned 
by  Egeria.  Besides,  the  young  transatlantic  repub 
lic,  having  no  neighbor  to  check  her  expansion,  will 
evidently  extend  over  the  whole  continent  of  North 
America.  It  will  be  a  new  kind  of  patriotism,  that 
which  will  have  to  spread  over  an  area  of  thousands  of 
miles !  Probably  it  will  have  no  more  strength  than 
a  bottle  of  this  generous  wine  here  would  possess,  if 
diluted  in  the  ocean.  My  conclusion  is,  that  in  a  vast 
country  destined  to  be  enormously  rich,  a  republic 
without  intense  patriotism  is  an  impossibility." 

Ditchatcl.  "  My  heart  was  sick  of  the  long  errors 
and  miseries  of  so  many  brutish  and  enslaved  genera 
tions.  Like  yours,  it  aimed,  in  its  blindness,  at  im 
possible  ameliorations  which  have  already  cost  too 
many  tears  and  too  much  blood.  The  lovers  of  Pene 
lope  were  not  more  bitterly  deceived  than  have  been 
the  lovers  of  liberty.  There  are  days  and  nights  for 
the  intelligence  of  nations  as  for  the  physical  world, 
and  during  the  hours  of  darkness,  what  had  been  done 
during  the  hours  of  light,  is  frequently  undone." 

Faucliet.     "  The  French  are  a  people  without  re- 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  353 

ligion,  and  therefore  incapable  of  establishing  any 
solid  institutions.  A  nation  may  do  the  masonry  of 
an  edifice,  but  God  alone  must  be  its  architect ;  other 
wise  it  will  be  a  tower  of  Babel.  Civilization  is  the 
serpent  that  leads  ungodly  societies  to  the  foot  of 
the  tree  of  knowledge,  and  when  they  pluck  its  fruit, 
it  is  only  to  learn  that  they  are  doomed  to  death,  be 
cause  of  their  infidelity.  Ah  !  gentlemen,  our  revolu 
tion  came  from  that  fruit  which  hung  on  the  tree  of 
knowledge  spoken  of  in  Genesis.  The  eating  thereof 
produced  one  in  Paradise." 

Ducos.  "  Citizens,  we  are  getting  too  prosy  and 
dull.  Fill  up  your  glasses  to  the  brim.  We  are  not 
preaching  here  like  monks,  but  feasting  like  the  com 
panions  of  Leonidas,  before  passing  from  the  battle 
field  to  an  immortal  life.  Let  us  rejoice  and  be 
merry  ;  let  us  pour  perfumes  on  our  heads  and  put 
on  crowns  of  flowers.  By-the-by,  I  regret  that, 
whilst  we  were  in  power  and  voting  decrees  by  the 
bushel,  I  forgot  to  propose  the  indivisibility  of  the 
head  and  shoulders  like  the  indivisibility  of  the 
republic." 

Viger.  "  I  am  a  military  man.  Permit  me  to  speak 
with  the  frankness  which  characterizes  my  profession, 
and  without  offense  to  most  of  you  who  are  lawyers. 
You  talked  too  much  in  the  Convention.  No  orator, 
no  sophist  ever  founded  or  preserved  social  order. 
The  sword  is  the  only  agent  of  civilization  and  gov 
ernment  which  is  worth  a  cent.  Robespierre,  who  is 
fond  of  listening  to  his  own  voice,  will  end  as  we  do. 
France  will  be  saved  by  one  who  will  not  talk,  but 
act.  There  is  nothing  like  the  eloquence  of  artillery 
and  the  logic  of  the  sword,  to  argue  the  lovers  of 
anarchy  into  orderly  conduct.  It  is  not  in  the  gan- 


354  A  UBER T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

grened  heart  of  a  large  and  impure  city  that  it  is  pos 
sible  to  gather  the  elements  of  a  sound  republic.  A 
populace  feeds  on  the  entrails  of  the  social  body,  as 
ravens  and  buzzards  on  the  offals  of  the  slaughter 
house.  The  regenerator  of  France  will  come  out  of 
the  army." 

Dupcrret,  "  I  agree  with  Viger ;  and,  if  you  had 
seconded  us,  as  we  frequently  proposed  it  to  you,  his 
sword,  or  mine,  or  the  sword  of  some  other  military 
man,  would  have  cut  the  Gordian  knot  of  the  revolu 
tion." 

Fauchet.     "  A  sword  will  cut  it  yet." 

Gensonne.     "  That  of  Cromwell  ?  " 

Duchatel.     "Of  Monk?" 

Viger.  "  Who  knows  ?  France  is  at  war  with  Eu 
rope,  and  war  alone  produces  those  men  who  are  capa 
ble  of  governing  powerful  States." 

Duperret.  "  Yes,  men  who  save  a  nation  from  its 
own  excesses,  after  having  protected  it  against  a  for 
eign  foe." 

Vergniaud.     "  Like  Pelopidas." 

Carra.  "All  the  events  of  the  future  being  the 
unavoidable  repetition  of  the  past,  it  seems  to  me 
true  in  principle  that  a  sword  must  inevitably  close 
the  revolution." 

Duprat.  "  You  put  me  in  mind  of  what  I  heard  a 
young  captain  of  artillery  say,  when  I  was  supping 
with  him  more  than  a  year  ago.  It  produced  an  im 
pression  on  me,  and  I  remember  his  very  words. 
Speaking  of  the  present  leaders,  he  said  :  '  They  will 
march  in  the  midst  of  revolutions  without  knowing 
how  to  profit  by  them.  They  will  frame  constitutions 
and  violate  their  own  work.  They  will  make  them 
selves  odious  to  the  people  and  to  mankind  by  ex- 


A  UBER  T  DUBA  YET.  355 

cesses  which  had  disappeared  from  history  since  Sylla 
and  the  triumvirs.  Then  a  man  will  come,  with  a  halo 
of  glory,  and,  guided  by  fortune  and  victory,  he  will 
say  to  them  :  "  You  had  laws,  and  you  now  have  none, 
for  you  have  trampled  them  under  your  feet.  What 
have  you  done  with  the  blood  of  those  brave  legions 
which  was  uselessly  shed  for  their  country  ?  "  Thus  he 
will  speak ;  and,  with  the  mere  waving  of  his  sword, 
he  will  drive  them  out  of  sight  and  power.' " 

Vergniaud.  "  That  young  captain  may  be  the  man 
of  destiny  whom  the  future  keeps  in  reserve.  Heu  / 
Marcellus  eris." 

Mainviclle.  "  I  know  who  it  is.  He  is  a  Corsican, 
an  undersized  man,  with  a  luminous  and  penetrating 
gray  eye,  a  lean  body,  a  long  and  thin  profile,  a  vast 
forehead,  an  olivaceous  complexion,  hair  combed  flat 
and  falling  down  to  his  shoulders.  He  speaks  little  ; 
his  language  is  picturesque  and  sententious.  His 
thoughts  come  out — abrupt  and  brief — as  if  they  were 
orders.  His  name  is,  I  believe,  Napoleon  Bonaparte." 

Fonfrede,  "  Tossed  about  between  an  imbecile  aris 
tocracy  who  dream  of  nothing  but  the  past,  and  fran 
tic  demagogues  who  have  no  other  instincts  than  those 
of  destruction,  rapine,  and  assassination,  the  French, 
one  day,  will  be  perhaps  but  too  happy  to  have  a 
master." 

Vergniaud.  "  There  are  epochs  of  dissolution,  when 
it  is  no  more  possible  for  tyranny  to  establish  itself 
among  a  people,  than  it  is  possible  for  liberty.  Where 
the  tempest  of  revolution  has  passed,  it  leaves  behind 
in  its  track  an  oscillation  which  prevents  stability — a 
dangerous  flux  and  reflux.  What  the  tide  had  de 
posited  on  the  shore,  the  ebb  carries  back.  All  powers 
which  are  not  grafted  on  ancient  and  necessary  insti- 


356  A  UBER T  D UBA  YE  T. 

tutions,  identified  by  long  usage  with  the  national 
character,  are  structures  without  a  reliable  basis. 
Under  the  sirocco  breath  of  skepticism  the  whole  sur 
face  of  France  has  become  but  one  quicksand  where 
nothing  can  take  root.  I  am  afraid  that,  henceforth, 
despotism  and  liberty  will  be  but  transitory  things  in 
our  country,  and  will  alternately  succeed  each  other 
at  regular  intervals." 

Duchatel.  "  This  will  undoubtedly  happen,  unless  the 
country  should  shelter  itself  under  one  of  those  powers 
that  you  have  just  defined  as  resting  on  ancient  institu 
tions  and  usages,  and  it  is  no  other  than  that  monarchy 
which  you  have  destroyed,  and  which,  by  a  salutary 
re-action,  will  be  re-established  and  founded  on  a  con 
stitution,  or  fundamental  law,  that  will  be  a  guaranty 
against  the  evils  of  despotism  and  of  too  much  liberty. 
O  my  friends !  in  a  moment  of  insanity,  you  have 
voted  the  death  of  Louis.  Thank  God,  I  have  not. 
But  the  planks  of  the  scaffold  did  not  drink  the  last 
drop  of  that  noble  blood  of  the  Bourbons,  which  has 
never  been  shed  without  carrying  a  thrill  of  horror  to 
the  very  entrails  of  France." 

Here  he  was  interrupted  by  loud  cries  of  "  Long 
live  liberty ! " 

Vergniaud.  "  Yes,  long  live  liberty,  but  liberty 
must  permit  the  freedom  of  opinions,  particularly  in 
front  of  the  scaffold.  Therefore,  fill  up  your  glasses. 
Let  us  drink  to  whatever  we  please,  each  according 
to  his  own  fancy,  and  then,  let  Duchatel  go  on." 

After  silence  had  been  re-established,  Duchatel  rose 
again,  and  said  :  "  Long  live  the  King  and  liberty!  " 

Fauchet.     "  And  religion  !  " 

Duchatel.  "  Yes  ;  and  religion.  Long  live  the  King, 
liberty,  and  religion  !  They  harmonize  beautifully,  and 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  357 

are  essential  to  one  another.  The  ancient  charters  and 
constitutions  of  the  French  monarchy,  which  I  have 
studied  too  late,  and  which  we  ought  to  have  modi 
fied,  and  not  destroyed,  contained  a  thousand  times 
more  of  the  elements  of  liberty  than  will,  in  the 
course  of  many  ages,  ever  come  out  of  the  caverns  of 
your  republic.  Hence,  I  shout  again:  Long  live  the 
King!" 

"  Long  live  liberty,  and  down  with  Kings  !  "  shout 
ed  in  their  turn  most  of  the  Girondists.  Several  re 
mained  silent  and  pensive — among  others,  Verg- 
niaud.  After  a  little  while,  he  said  :  "  I  have  proved 
that  I  love  liberty,  since  I  perish  for  having  attempted 
to  establish  an  impossible  republic  in  France.  I  must, 
however,  confess  that  Duchatel  may  be  right  after  all ; 
for  if  the  happiness  and  prosperity  of  a  people  de 
pend  on  the  virtue  of  those  by  whom  they  are  gov 
erned,  it  follows  that  a  monarchy  is  preferable  to  an 
aristocracy,  because  there  is  a  better  chance  to  find 
one  virtuous  man  than  a  hundred  ;  and  an  aristocracy 
is  preferable  to  a  democracy,  because  there  is  a  greater 
probability  that  one  hundred  virtuous  men  can  be 
found  than  twenty  thousand.  But  why  trouble  our 
selves  with  the  forms  of  government?  In  our  situa 
tion,  we  had  better  discuss  the  immortality  of  the  soul. 
It  is  the  only  question  which  should  be  made  the 
order  of  the  day." 

Le  Hardy.  "  For  me  it  is  not  a  question.  Creation 
can  not  be  imperfect,  because  it  comes  from  God.  It 
must,  therefore,  be  perfect,  which  it  would  not  be 
without  morality,  and  it  would  have  none,  were  not 
the  good  to  be  rewarded  and  the  bad  punished." 

Fonfrede.  "  That  question  is  answered  by  nature. 
It  has  made  man  the  only  intelligent  being  in  whom 


358  A  UBERT  DUBA  YET. 

exists,  as  an  instinct,  the  desire,  the  hope,  and  the 
want  of  resurrection.  The  instinct  would  not  have 
been  given,  were  it  not  to  be  satisfied." 

Brissot.  "  It  is  answered  by  human  reason,  which 
manifests  itself  in  its  highest  degree  of  excellence  in 
the  philosophical  works  of  Plato.  I  look  for  the  ac 
complishment  of  the  promise  made  to  me  by  that  sage 
in  the  name  of  the  great  Architect  of  the  universe." 

Fauchet.  "  It  is  answered  by  faith,  which  is  more 
learned  and  more  faithful  to  its  promises  than  Plato 
with  all  his  conjectural  investigations,  and  which 
makes  the  Christian  more  certain  of  the  future  exist 
ence  than  the  philosopher." 

Ditprat.  "  My  friends,  we  are  getting  to  be  as  sol 
emn  and  gloomy  as  a  cathedral  seen  by  the  dim  light 
of  a  half-clouded  moon.  I  protest  against  it.  Let 
us  adjourn  this  metaphysical  discussion  to  the  mo 
ment  when,  our  heads  being  in  the  market-basket 
of  the  republic,  the  question  of  the  immortality  of 
the  soul  will  be  solved  ipso  facto — by  actual  demon 
stration.  For  the  present,  let  us  drink,  eat,  and  be 
merry.  We  have  no  time  to  lose.  Look  at  this  huge 
bowl  of  punch.  I  am  going  to  set  fire  to  it.  Fill 
up  your  glasses.  You  shall  have  a  bacchanalian 
song  which  would  heat  the  cold  blood  of  Robespierre 
himself." 

From  that  moment  the  banquet  took  a  character 
which  would  cease  to  be  interesting  or  acceptable  to 
such  readers  as  I  choose  or  hope  to  have.  At  last, 
Vergniaud  pulled  out  his  watch.  "  Four  o'clock,"  he 
said,  "  it  will  soon  be  day — our  last  day !  We  have 
but  two  or  three  hours  left  that  we  can  call  our  own. 
It  is  not  too  much  for  thinking,  writing,  making  our 
final  arrangements  with  the  world  which  we  leave  be 
hind  us,  and  sleeping  a  little." 


A  UBER T  D UBA  YE T.  359 

Mainvielle.  "  So  far  as  I  am  concerned,  I  have 
nothing  to  settle  with  the  world.  Let  it  settle  its 
own  concerns  to  please  itself.  I  never  cared  for  it, 
and  now  less  than  ever.  As  to  thinking,  my  brain 
never  fatigued  itself  with  such  an  operation.  Writing 
is  a  bore ;  and  as  to  sleeping,  I  shall  before  long  do 
nothing  else." 

"  My  dear  colleagues  of  the  National  Convention," 
said  Vergniaud,  striking  the  table  with  the  handle  of 
his  knife,  "  our  sitting  is  at  an  end.  We  adjourn  sine 
die''  Five  minutes  after,  the  room  was  vacant.  No 
— it  was  still  occupied  ;  there  was  remaining  in  a  cor 
ner  the  corpse  of  Valaze. 

The  prisoners  departed,  escorted  by  the  jailers, 
the  turnkeys,  and  their  subordinates — some  bearing 
torches,  and  others  carrying  lanterns.  When  Gen- 
sonn6  arrived  at  the  door  of  his  cell,  the  man  in  whose 
charge  he  was,  instead  of  pushing  him  in  and  turning 
the  key,  walked  in  with  him,  and  looking  steadfastly 
at  the  prisoner,  whose  face  seemed  to  inquire  for  the 
cause  of  this  unusual  proceeding,  said,  in  a  voice 
which  nature  had  made  harsh  in  its  intonations :  "  Cit 
izen  Gensonne,  you  are  the  intimate  friend  of  Barba- 
roux,  are  you  not?"  "Yes."  "  Very  well.  I  have 
a  mission  to  accomplish  on  your  behalf.  I  was  an 
old  servant  of  the  noble  damsel,  Charlotte  Corday 
D'Armans.  My  mistress  said  to  me,  before  she  went 
to.  the  scaffold :  '  Grandchamp,  it  is  probable  that 
Barbaroux  has  perished  at  Bordeaux.  We  can  do 
nothing  for  him  ;  but  his  friend,  Gensonne,  is  in  great 
danger  in  Paris.  Watch  over  him.'  Before  she  thus 
spoke,  I  had  determined  to  die  with  her,  for  she  was 
the  last  of  her  race.  I  had  no  longer  anything  to  do 
on  earth.  But,  as  she  chose  to  give  me  an  order,  of 
course  I  had  to  live  and  execute  it.  So,  I  turned  Ja- 


360  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

cobin,  as  I  foresaw  that  it  would  offer  me  the  oppor 
tunity  of  being  of  service  to  you.  I  frequented  their 
clubs  and  became  somewhat  popular.  When  you 
were  arrested,  I  contrived  to  be  appointed  one  of  the 
turnkeys  of  this  prison.  Now,  be  quick ;  let  us  ex 
change  clothing.  Take  mine;  I'll  take  yours.  We 
are  fortunately  of  the  same  size.  Make  my  broad- 
brimmed  hat  hang  low  over  your  face,  as  I  habitually 
wear  it.  The  prison  is  dimly  lighted,  and  the  guards 
are  getting  drunk  over  the  wines  which  you  left.  I 
have  been  given  an  errand  by  the  chief  jailer.  Here 
is  the  order  in  writing  which  permits  me  to  go  out. 
Show  it  to  the  man  at  the  outside  gate.  As  to  the 
inside  doors,  here  are  the  keys  ;  they  are  all  num 
bered — one,  two,  three,  four — to  be  used  as  you  go 
on.  You  can  not  make  a  mistake."  And  he  began 
stripping  himself. 

"  Stop,"  said  Gensonn6,  almost  paralyzed  with  as 
tonishment.  "  What  have  I  done  for  you,  that  you 
forfeit  your  life  to  save  mine  ?  " 

"  You  have  done  nothing,"  replied  Grandchamp. 
"  I  care  not  for  your  life  ;  you  will  owe  me  no  obliga 
tion.  I  was  told  to  watch  over  you,  and  to  save  you, 
if  possible.  I  obey  the  order.  That's  all." 

"  But,  if  I  fly,  you  will  be  butchered  in  my  place." 

"  Exactly  what  I  want,"  growled  Grandchamp. 
"  My  mission  being  at  an  end,  I  am  free  to  act  as  I 
please.  But,  hurry,  hurry ;  take  off  your  clothes  as 
I  do  mine.  Otherwise,  it  will  be  too  late." 

Tears  of  admiration  came  into  the  eyes  of  Gen- 
sonn6,  and  he  pressed  warmly  in  his  hands  those  of 
Grandchamp.  "You  are  the  noblest  and  most  gen 
erous  of  men  in  your  heroic  simplicity,"  he  said. 
"  Would  that  all  the  French  were  like  you  ! " 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  36  T 

"  If  they  were,"  answered  Grandchamp,  "  France 
would  not  be  a  republic.  I  am  a  royalist  of  the  deep 
est  dye.  But,  make  haste." 

Gensonm.  "  My  friend,  keep  your  clothes  on,  and 
answer  me  frankly  one  single  question,  as  I  know  you 
will ;  for  you  have  sufficiently  revealed  your  nature 
to  me.  We  are  capable  of  understanding  each  other. 
Were  you  in  my  place,  would  you  desert  your  com 
panions  and  fly  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  replied  Grandchamp,  firmly  and  unhesitat 
ingly. 

Gensonnf.  "  Your  answer  prescribes  what  I  have 
to  do,  and  precludes  all  further  solicitations  on  your 
part.  Thanks  to  you  with  all  my  heart  for  your  at 
tempt  to  save  my  life,  and — farewell !  Any  further 
stay  would  expose  you  unnecessarily." 

Grandchamp.     "  Is  it  your  last  word  ?  " 

Gensonm.     "  The  last." 

Grandchamp.  "  You  are  what  you  should  be." 
And  it  was  his  turn  to  shake  cordially  Gensonn6's 
hands.  "  It  i"s  time  to  part,"  he  continued.  "  But  we 
shall  meet  again  at  the  foot  of  the  scaffold."  And  he 
retired,  muttering  between  his  teeth  :  "  Those  repub 
licans,  after  all,  are  not  so  mean  and  rascally  as  I 
thought." 

On  the  next  day,  the  Girondists  were  piled  up  in  a 
large  and  long  cart  and  carried  to  the  place  of  execu 
tion,  where  an  immense  crowd  awaited  them.  There 
they  all  acted  dramatically,  and  uttered  pithy  and 
brilliant  sentences,  destined  to  produce  stage  effect, 
and  to  be  duly  recorded  for  posterity.  Some  joked, 
some  laughed,  some  even  perpetrated  puns.  Others 
hummed  the  Marseillaise,  or  an  opera  tune.  Every 
one  showed  his  contempt  of  death  in  the  way  which 
16 


362  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

he  thought  would  be  most  striking.  Several  of  them 
shouted  :  "  Long  live  the  republic  !  " — in  which  they 
did  not  believe,  and  which  was  tyrannically  slaugh 
tering  them  without  any  cause,  or  reason,  or  pretext 
whatever,  to  palliate  the  atrocity  of  the  deed.  There 
was  an  incident  which  moved  the  multitude.  When 
Duchatel  ascended  the  scaffold,  a  bouquet  of  daisies 
and  immortelles,  to  which  was  attached  a  paper,  and 
which  was  thrown  by  an  unseen  hand,  fell  at  his  feet. 
It  was  picked  up  by  the  public  executioner.  "Read 
it !  read  it !  "  cried  the  crowd.  The  executioner  read 
it  in  a  distinct  voice  : 

"  FOR  MR.  DUCHATEL  : 

"  My  heart  had  responded  to  your  love,  dear  Du 
chatel,  and  yet  I  did  not  express  it  to  you,  because 
there  could  be  no  possible  alliance  between  us  on 
earth.  To-day  you  die  ;  in  a  few  days  it  will  be  my 
turn,  for  I  have  just  been  arrested,  and  I  am  soon  to 
be  tried.  You  will  not  long  precede  me  to  the  bridal 
chamber.  Prepare  it  for  me,  dearest.  My  heart  and 
hand  are  yours  throughout  eternity. 

"  LUCILE." 

Duchatel  looked  up  to  Heaven  with  a  radiant  face, 
and  after  his  head  had  fallen,  his  features  had  retained 
an  expression  of  joy. 

The  last  who  perished  was  Gensonn6.  "  Long  live 
the  republic !  "  he  exclaimed  with  a  mocking  tone 
and  attitude.  "  Long  live  the  republic  ! — which  you 
have  not,  and  which  you  will  never  have." 

It  was  eleven  o'clock  when  this  massacre  began, 
and,  "  Thirty  minutes  after,"  says  a  French  writer, 
"  twenty  of  the  judges  of  the  King  of  France  had 
appeared  before  the  Eternal  Judge." 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  363 

When  the  last  of  the  Girondists  had  ceased  to  ex 
ist,  a  tall  and  rugged  figure  ascended  the  scaffold  with 
slow  and  measured  steps,  and,  when  on  the  platform, 
looked  calmly  but  austerely  at  the  astonished  multi 
tude,  whom  he  seemed  disposed  to  address.  It  was 
Grandchamp.  That  address  was  not  long.  Stretch 
ing  himself  up  to  his  full  height,  and  expanding  his 
breast,  he  shouted  :  "  Vile  and  blood-thirsty  canaille, 
I  hope  that  you  will  one  day  receive  the  punishment 
which  you  deserve.  I  defy  you  all.  Long  live  the 
King !  Long  live  the  memory  of  Charlotte  Corday, 
and  down  with  your  republic  of  demons!"  There 
was  but  one  vast  clamor  of :  "  Off  with  his  head  !  Off 
with  his  head  !  "  Grandchamp  smiled  in  approbation, 
and,  after  waving  his  hand  as  if  returning  thanks,  ad 
justed  himself  his  neck  in  the  guillotine.  The  "off 
with  his  head  "  was  more  vociferously  repeated  by 
thousands  of  voices.  "Citizens,"  said  the  public 
executioner,  "  I  have  no  authority  to  do  it ;  I  am 
without  orders ;  I  can  not  incur  the  responsibility." 
"  I  will  assume  it,"  exclaimed  a  man  frantic  with  rage, 
who  jumped  upon  the  platform,  and  touched  a  spring 
that  kept  suspended  the  fatal  ax.  It  descended  with 
a  hissing  sound,  and  Grandchamp's  head  was  the 
twenty-first  which,  by  its  fall  on  that  day,  gratified 
the  eyes  of  a  ferocious  multitude.  Thus  perished 
one  of  those  faithful  domestics  of  whom  so  many  of 
the  households  of  France  could  boast  under  the  old 
regime,  and  who,  henceforth,  will  be  looked  upon  as 
an  impossible  type  of  beings,  whose  chronicled  devo 
tion  and  honesty  seem  more  compatible  with  those 
fictions  which  grace  legendary  traditions,  than  with 
the  sobriety  of  history  and  its  truth-sifting  investi 
gations. 


CHAPTER     XXV. 

DEMOLITION  BY  A  DECREE  OF  THE  NATIONAL  AS 
SEMBLY  OF  THE  CHATEAU  DE  CHANTILLY, 
THE  HOME  OF  THE  GREAT  CONDE  —  THE 
VISION  IN  THE  LAKE. 

WE  have  lost  sight  of  Tintin  Calandro.  What  had 
become  of  him,  since  he  brought  to  Mirabeau  the 
grateful  news  that  Marie  Antoinette  had  granted  him 
the  interview  which  he  so  desired,  to  save,  as  he 
hoped,  the  monarchy  of  France,  and  since  he  had  re 
ceived  frorn  the  dying  orator  his  last  message  to  royal 
ty?  We  must  retrace  our  steps  to  the  epoch  when 
the  King  was  still  nominally  on  the  throne,  after  his 
return  from  Varennes,  where  he  had  been  arrested  in 
his  flight  and  brought  back  to  Paris,  whilst  the  friend 
of  the  Queen,  the  Princess  de  Lamballe,  had  succeed 
ed  in  finding  a  safe  asylum  in  England,  which  she  was 
preparing,  however,  to  abandon ;  for  she  had  deter 
mined  to  come  back  and  share  in  all  the  dangers  of 
her  royal  mistress.  At  that  time,  the  National  Con 
vention  was  passing  the  most  severe  decrees  against 
those  nobles  who  had  emigrated  from  France,  among 
whom  were  all  the  members  of  the  House  of  Conde, 
a  prince  of  the  blood.  Lakanal,  who  had  obtained  a 
seat  in  that  Assembly,  and  who  had  ceased  to  be  a 
Catholic  priest,  like  other  similar  progressists,  had 
been  instructed  to  take  possession  of  Chantilly,  the 
famous  residence  of  the  prince,  where  one  of  his  an- 
(364) 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  365 

cestors,  the  Great  Conde,  had  given  to  Louis  XIV. 
those  marvelous  entertainments  described  in  the  let 
ters  of  Madam  de  Sevigne,  and  in  more  than  one  of 
the  memoirs  of  the  seventeenth  century.  The  chdtcau 
was  to  be  demolished  ;  all  the  gold,  silver,  copper,  and 
lead,  and  all  the  other  valuable  materials  there  to  be 
found,  were  to  be  appropriated  to  public  purposes. 

Immediately  after  receiving  this  commission,  Lak- 
anal  had  departed  for  Chantilly  without  any  attend 
ant.  He  wished  to  examine  the  extent  of  the  work 
to  be  done,  and  ascertain  what  number  of  men  he 
would  have  to  employ.  He  had  other  reasons  to  de 
sire  to  be  alone  when  applying  to  get  possession  of 
the  building  he  was  to  destroy.  Although  he  had 
occasionally  met  Aubert  Dubayet,  he  had  been,  since 
he  had  begun  his  revolutionary  career,  sedulously 
avoided  by  Tintin  Calandro,  and  this  man,  whose 
heart  was  as  hard  as  adamant,  and  who,  to  achieve 
his  fanatical  purposes,  would  without  emotion  have 
sent  to  the  block  all  the  kings,  queens,  and  nobility 
of  Europe,  shrank  from  meeting  a  poor  musician, 
once  his  school  companion.  In  his  memory,  bloom 
ing  at  times  with  all  the  freshness  of  youth,  there 
lived  again  two  boys  who  had  often  been  locked  in 
each  other's  arms,  who  had  gamboled  together  on 
the  green-sward,  and  one  of  whom  had  been  saved 
by  the  other,  when  the  angry  waves  of  a  torrent  were 
carrying  him  away.  The  joyful  laugh  of  childhood 
still  rang  in  his  ears ;  the  sight  of  a  bright,  candid, 
confiding  face,  budding  into  adolescence,  still  greeted 
his  eyes ;  and  into  that  stern  heart  of  his  a  softness 
crept  which  he  could  not  subdue.  He  had  heard  that 
the  Princess  de  Lamballe,  previous  to  her  flight,  had 
provided  for  Tintin  Calandro,  and  had  caused  him  to 


366  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

be  appointed  keeper  of  the  CJidtcau  dc  Chantilly,  with 
a  good  salary.  Would  he,  Lakanal,  attempt  to  drive 
him  away?  He  knew  Tintin  Calandro  but  too  well; 
he  expected  resistance,  and  resistance  to  the  will  of  the 
National  Convention  was  death !  Would  he  kill  Tin- 
tin  Calandro?  No!  no!  He  had  laughed,  he  had 
sneered  at  him — that  he  could  do — but  dig  his  grave  ! 
Never !  That  life  at  least  was  safe  in  his  hands.  He 
would  not  yield  it  to  any  exigency;  he  woujd  battle 
for  it  like  a  man ;  he  would  watch  over  it  with  a 
woman's  tenderness.  Such  are  the  mysteries  of  hu 
man  nature.  Thus  in  barren  deserts  travelers  will 
meet  a  green  spot  and  a  gushing  spring  from  some 
blasted  rock. 

As  we  see,  Lakanal  had  his  own  special  reason  for 
encountering  Tintin  Calandro  without  a  witness.  He 
had  prepared  himself  for  the  first  burst  of  indigna 
tion  of  his  sensitive  friend ;  he  would  coax  and 
soothe  him;  he  would  persuade  him  to  succumb 
gently  to  resistless  fate,  and  to  accept  his  protection. 
Encouraged  by  these  thoughts,  Lakanal  summoned 
all  his  resolution,  and,  on  the  clear  evening  of  an  au 
tumnal  day,  entered  the  park  of  Chantilly  on  foot. 
A  herd  of  tame  deer  glided  by  him,  and  were  soon 
lost  among  the  trees  and  in  the  darkening  shades  of 
the  departing  twilight.  A  milk-white  fawn,  with  a 
gilt  collar  on  her  neck,  had  detached  herself  from  the 
rest,  and,  after  circling  round  and  round  the  stranger 
in  frolicsome  coquetry,  displaying  her  beauty  and 
grace,  approached  him  with  her  nostrils  distended, 
her  soft  eyes  beaming  with  the  expectation  of  familiar 
caresses,  and  with  her  head  and  neck  stretched  to  re 
ceive  some  dainty  bit  of  food.  Charmed  with  the 
sight,  Lakanal  stood  motionless,  not  to  frighten  the 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  367 

timid  animal.  The  fawn  turned  around  him,  smell 
ing  his  clothes  and  hands,  and,  suddenly  showing  all 
the  signs  of  extreme  terror,  uttered  a  plaintive  cry 
and  bounded  away,  as  if  she  had  been  chased  by  a 
famished  wolf.  He  sighed,  and  went  on.  He  walked 
in  alleys  shaded  by  tall  oaks  whose  aged  limbs  spread 
over  his  head.  The  wind  moaned  through  their  leafy 
crowns,  and  dismal  howls,  far  distant,  were  wafted  to 
his  ears.  Lakanal  was  a  man  of  strong  nerves,  and 
entirely  destitute  of  imagination ;  and  yet  he  could 
not  but  feel,  now  and  then,  a  creeping  of  the  flesh,  as 
he  fancied  that  he  heard  near  him  some  strange  noise, 
and  that  he  had  indistinct  glimpses  of  mysterious 
forms  which  scowled  at  him  and  melted  into  the  ris 
ing  mist.  As  he  proceeded,  a  shower  of  leaves  kept 
falling  on  and  about  him,  and  he  shuddered  when  to 
his  eye  ever}'-  leaf,  as  it  reached  the  ground,  seemed 
to  assume  the  appearance  of  a  large  drop  of  blood. 
He  hastened  his  steps,  and  when  at  last  he  stood  in 
front  of  the  stately  edifice  of  which  he  was  to  be  the 
destroyer,  perspiration  streamed  from-  his  forehead, 
notwithstanding  the  keenness  of  the  night  air.  He 
stared  at  the  palace  for  a  moment  with  something 
like  a  feeling  of  awe.  The  silence  and  solitude  were 
appalling ;  no  sign  of  life  was  visible ;  every  door  and 
window  was  closed,  not  a  light  was  to  be  seen.  With 
a  trembling  hand  he  knocked  at  the  main  entrance. 
After  a  little  while,  steps  were  heard  approaching, 
bolts  and  bars  were  withdrawn,  and  Tintin  Calandro, 
with  a  lantern  in  his  hand,  and  an  enormous  dog  of 
the  Mount  St.  Bernard  breed  by  his  side,  stood  on 
the  threshold.  The  dog,  as  soon  as  he  saw  the 
stranger,  was  about  to  spring  upon  him  with  a  fero 
cious  bark,  when,  "  Down,  Norlingue,  down  !  "  from 


368  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

Tintin  Calandro,  brought  him  crouching  to  his  feet 
but  still  growling,  and  keeping  his  fierce  eyes  riveted 
on  the  unknown  visitor. 

"  My  dear  Tintin,"  said  Lakanal,  in  a  deprecating 
tone,  "you  are  no  doubt  surprised  at  seeing  me,"  and 
he  presented  his  hand  to  greet  his  former  school  com 
panion.  Tintin  did  not  take  it,  and  replied,  with 
freezing  gravity :  "  I  am  not  surprised  at  anything. 
Walk  in  ";  and  he  led  Lakanal  through  a  long  suite 
of  apartments.  The  pale  light  of  the  lantern  now 
and  then  fell  on  the  grim  figure  of  some  warrior  paint, 
ed  on  the  wall,  or  reproduced  in  sculptured  marble, 
that  seemed  to  frown  upon  him.  He  grew  almost  in 
dignant  with  himself.  He  was  not  superstitious,  and 
he  attributed  the  illusion  to  fatigue  and  an  over-ex 
cited  mind  which,  for  the  first  time,  he  could  not  con 
trol.  At  last  they  reached  a  door  before  which 
Tintin  Calandro  stopped.  "This  is  my  apartment," 
he  said,  "  step  in."  The  dog  had  followed,  keeping 
close  to  Lakanal,  growling  all  the  time,  and  showing 
signs  of  increasing  anger — so  that  Tintin  had  to  put 
him  out.  "  How  strange  !  "  he  muttered  to  himself. 
"That  animal  has  never  before  been  ferocious  and 
disobedient.  What  wonderful  instinct !  He  must 
know,  as  if  intuitively,  that  an  enemy  of  the  house 
has  crossed  its  threshold." 

When  he  returned,  Lakanal  was  warming  himself 
by  a  large  fire  which  burnt  cheerfully  in  an  antique 
chimney.  The  apartment  itself  was  vast  and  gloomy. 
"This  room  is  very  cold,"  said  Lakanal,  rubbing  his 
hands  and  spreading  them  open  to  the  flames. 

"  For  mortal  man,  it  is  always  cold  in  the  presence 
of  spirits,"  replied  Tintin,  in  a  solemn  tone,  "  and 
spirits  dwell  here." 


A  UBER  T  D  USA  YE  T. 

Lakanal  felt  colder,  and  approached  closer  to  the 
fire.  A  dead  silence  ensued.  No  sound  was  heard 
except  the  monotonous,  heavy  tick  of  a  large  clock  in 
the  corner  and  the  chirping  of  a  cricket  on  the  hearth. 
Was  it  a  funeral  dirge  sung  by  the  little  insect  to  the 
departing  hour?  It  had  a  saddening  effect  on  Laka- 
nal's  already  depressed  mind.  But,  bracing  his 
nerves,  he  said  :  "  I  have  a  message  from  the  National 
Convention  to  the  keeper  or  warder  of  the  Chateau  de 
Chantillyr 

"  Ha!  ha!  Is  it  so?  Well,  then,  this  bed-chamber 
is  not  a  proper  place  for  its  delivery,"  said  Tintin 
Calandro,  with  bitter  irony.  "  Let  us  walk  to  the 
reception  hall.  The  ambassador  of  the  National 
Convention  must  be  treated  with  due  respect ";  and, 
taking  his  lantern,  he  conducted  Lakanal,  who  follow 
ed  him  mechanically  and  almost  in  a  state  of  bewil 
derment,  to  a  lofty  and  immense  apartment,  where 
every  object  was  indistinct,  for  the  feeble  light  of  the 
lantern  only  served  to  make  "  darkness  visible." 
Lakanal  had  gone  through  unusual  emotions  that 
evening,  and  began  to  feel  really  sick — almost  faint 
ing.  He  tottered  to  a  large  gothic  arm-chair  which 
was  not  far  from  him.  He  was  in  the  act  of  dropping 
into  it,  when  Tintin  Calandro  pushed  him  violently 
aside.  "  Not  there,  not  there  !  "  he  cried  fiercely. 
"  This  is  a  sacred  relic.  It  was  the  favorite  seat  of 
the  Great  Conde.  In  my  presence,  none  but  one  of 
his  race  shall  sit  in  it.  By  the  living  God,  man,  it  is 
fortunate  that  I  put  out  that  sagacious  dog.  He 
would  have  throttled  you  in  an  instant,  without  my 
being  able  to  prevent  it.  Take  that  other  chair;  and 
now,  speak.  But  let  me  put  this  lantern  between  you 
and  me,  so  that  we  may  see  each  other's  honest  faces." 
16* 


370 


A  UBER  T  D  USA  YE  T. 


This  rude  treatment  recalled  Lakanal  to  his  habitual 
sternness  of  character,  and  almost  roused  him  to 
anger.  "  Sir,"  said  he  firmly  to  Tintin  Calandro, 
"  the  Prince  of  Cond6  having  emigrated,  this  property 
is  confiscated.  To-morrow,  I  will  demand  possession. 
Here  is  the  decree  of  the  Convention,  and  here  are 
my  credentials.  The  chateau  is  to  be  razed  to  the 
ground." 

Contrary  to  Lakanal's  expectation,  Tintin  replied, 
calmly:  "It  shall  be  done  as  you  desire.  You  and 
your  colleagues  of  the  Convention  are  but  the  tools 
of  Providence.  I  am  prepared,  for  I  knew  that  all 
this  was  to  happen." 

"  How  ?  "  said  the  astonished  Lakanal. 

"You  shall  see.  Not  far  from  here,  and  appertain 
ing  to  this  domain,  there  is  an  old  structure,  called 
the  Chateau  de  la  Reine  Blanche,  because  it  was  the 
favorite  residence  of  Saint  Louis  and  of  his  pious 
mother,  Blanche  of  Castile.  It  is  beautifully  situated 
on  the  bank  of  a  small  sheet  of  water  named  the  Lake  of 
Commelle.  Shortly  after  I  came  here  as  keeper  of  Chan- 
tilly  for  the  Prince  of  Cond6, 1  heard  of  what  you  would 
have  treated  with  contempt,  as  a  ridiculous  supersti 
tion.  I  was  told  that,  for  several  centuries,  it  had 
been  implicitly  believed  among  the  peasantry  of  this 
locality  that  if,  on  Christmas  night,  at  twelve  o'clock, 
the  moon  being  full,  one  should  dare  to  row  to  the 
middle  of  the  lake,  and,  after  addressing  a  short 
prayer  to  his  patron  saint,  should  cast  a  stone  into 
the  water,  saying,  '  Blessed  be  Queen  Blanche,'  he 
would  see  the  revelation  of  some  future  event  clearly 
conveyed  to  him,  by  looking  steadfastly  at  the  placid 
surface  of  the  lake.  You  know  what  a  passion  I  have 
always  had,  since  my  boyhood,  for  all  such  legends 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


371 


and  traditions  of  the  middle  ages.  It  so  happened 
that,  on  the  first  Christmas  eve  I  spent  here,  all  the 
circumstances  required  by  the  tradition  presented 
themselves.  The  temperature  was  unusually  mild, 
the  weather  magnificent,  and  I  determined  to  have  a 
pleasant  rowing  excursion  on  the  lake,  to  enjoy  a 
view  of  the  castle  and  of  the  surrounding  scenery  by 
moonlight,  whilst  indulging1  in  dreamy  reveries  on 
Saint  Louis,  Blanche  of  Castile,  and  the  ancient 
knights  of  France  and  Spain.  But,  whilst  rowing 
along  the  romantic  banks  of  the  lake,  there  came  on 
me  an  irresistible  temptation  to  try  the  incantation 
scene,  and  test  the  truth  of  the  legend.  Obedient  to 
the  oar,  my  boat  was  soon  in  the  middle  of  the  lake, 
and,  just  when  I  heard  the  bell  of  the  town  of  Chan- 
tilly  strike  twelve,  I  muttered  a  prayer  to  St.  Augus- 
tin,  my  patron,  and  flung  a  stone  into  the  water,  say 
ing:  'Blessed  be  Queen  Blanche!'  Circles  within 
circles  spread  to  the  shore ;  next,  to  my  surprise,  the 
water  around  the  boat  hissed  and  foamed,  and  was 
convulsed  as  if  a  storm  had  swept  over  it.  But  it 
passed  away,  and  the  bosom  of  the  lake  became  as 
smooth  as  a  glass.  I  gazed  at  it  with  intense  curi 
osity,  and  I  saw  this  noble  structure  reflected  with 
the  utmost  distinctness,  as  if  in  a  mirror.  It  seemed 
to  bask  in  the  rays  of  the  setting  sun,  and  its  two 
stately  towers  never  had  appeared  so  majestic  to  me. 
Suddenly,  dark  clouds  gathered  round  them,  with 
lightning  and  thunder.  I  looked  up ;  the  moon  shone 
undimmed  in  a  serene  sky.  I  looked  down  again ; 
the  clouds  had  grown  darker  and  the  lightnings  more 
vivid  and  threatening,  when  one  of  the  towers  was 
struck,  fell,  and  disappeared.  In  its  place,  I  saw  the 
ditch  of  a  fortress,  which  looked  like  Vincennes.  In 


372  A  USER  T  D UBA  YE T. 

that  ditch  was  the  body  of  the  Duke  D'Enghien,  shot 
dead  by  a  platoon  of  soldiers.  Whilst  I  shrank  with 
horror  from  the  ghastly  spectacle,  the  other  tower 
was  also  crushed  by  a  thunderbolt,  and  I  saw  nothing 
but  a  bed-chamber,  in  which  an  old  man  had  been 
hung  to  the  fastening  iron  bar  of  a  window.  It  was 
the  Duke  de  Bourbon.  Two  murders !  and  a  race  of 
heroes  was  extinct !  But  this  was  not  all.  There 
came  a  man  with  a  red  cap  and  a  red  jacket,  and  a 
spade  in  his  hand.  He  dug  a  large  grave,  and  buried 
the  two  corpses,  father  and  son,  side  by  side.  Do 
you  want  to  know  who  that  man  was?  It  was  you, 
Lakanal.  Do  you  now  understand  how  I  was  pre 
pared  for  your  mission  here?  Public  executioner,  do 
thy  duty.  In  God's  name,  raze  this  glorious  manor 
to  the  ground,  since  there  will  soon  be  no  Cond6  to 
be  sheltered  under  its  roof." 

At  that  moment  the  shutters  of  a  window  were 
thrown  open  with  violence,  as  if  by  an  irresistible  gust 
of  wind,  and  there  floated  on  the  silent  air,  fearfully 
distinct,  the  prolonged  wailings  of  a  female  voice.  It 
was  expressive  of  intense  grief  and  agonizing  in  its 
tones.  It  sounded  as  if  coming  from  afar — far  away. 
There  was  a  sort  of  musical  modulation  in  those 
mournful  accents,  as  they  struck  the  ear  like  a  wild 
melody  from  the  harp  of  despair.  "  Listen,"  said 
Tintin  Calandro,  turning  deadly  pale,  "  listen.  What 
this  is,  I  do  not  know.  But  thrice  in  my  life  have  I 
heard  this  voice  of  unearthly  misery,  and  thrice  it  was 
on  the  eve  of  a  frightful  calamity."  This  was  too 
much  for  Lakanal,  after  all  the  shocks  he  had  received. 
He  shivered  in  all  his  limbs,  and  his  teeth  chattered. 
"  I  see,"  said  Tintin,  "  that  the  cold  you  complained 
of  has  increased.  Come  to  your  room,  where  you  will 
find  a  good  fire.  It  is  next  to  mine.  You  need  rest." 


A  UBER  T  D UBA  YE  T.  373 

Three  hours  had  elapsed  since  they  had  parted  for 
the  night.  Tintin  Calandro,  who  could  not  sleep,  was 
pacipg  his  room  in  sad  meditation,  when  a  terrific 
shriek  was  heard  in  the  next  one.  He  rushed  in  with 
a  light,  and  found  Lakanal  sitting  upright  in  his  bed, 
and  still  asleep,  but  under  the  spell  of  some  horrible 
dream.  He  had  not  undressed  himself ;  and,  wrapped 
in  his  traveling  cloak,  he  had  sought  repose  on  the 
couch.  His  face  expressed  the  wildest  terror;  his 
eyes  were  open  and  glaring  at  some  dreadful  object. 
"  Enough,  enough,"  he  shrieked,  tossing  his  arms 
about  as  if  to  guard  himself  against  the  approach  of 
something  he  feared.  "  Enough !  Why  this  intermin 
able  procession  of  the  dead,  each  one,  as  his  appalling 
form  glides  by,  inflicting  on  me  a  more  exquisite  tor 
ture  ?  And  thou,  O  Prince,  the  greatest  of  thy  race, 
spare  me  !  I  can  not  help  it,  I  must  execute  my  mis 
sion.  I  have  sworn  an  oath  which  no  mortal  man  dares 
disobey.  Thou  knowest  what  it  is,  and  to  whom  I 
have  pledged  my  faith.  Strike  me  not  again  with  that 
blade  which  has  flashed  on  so  many  battle-fields.  Its 
touch  burns  me  like  intensified  fire."  And  putting 
both  his  hands  on  his  eyes  as  a  screen  against  what 
they  saw,  he  fell  groaning  on  his  pillow,  and  gradually 
grew  more  quiet. 

"O  Heaven!"  exclaimed  Tintin  Calandro.  "  If  such 
is  the  sleep  of  the  wicked,  then  retribution  begins  in 
this  world.  I  will  not  wake  him.  May  the  chastise 
ment  which  he  finds  in  his  own  conscience  be  a  timely 
warning,  and  arrest  him  in  his  career  of  evil ! " 

On  the  next  morning  the  pale,  wan,  wasted  look  of 
Lakanal  spoke  of  the  night  which  he  had  passed.  It 
made  an  appeal  to  the  heart  of  Tintin  Calandro.  He 
was  mollified  by  the  sight,  and  it  was  not  without  a 
certain  degree  of  kindness  that  he  urged  his  unwel- 


374 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


come  guest  to  take  some  refreshments,  of  which  he 
evidently  stood  in  need.  When  they  were  seated  at 
the  same  table,  the  recollection  of  better  days  a^nd  of 
ties  which  had  been  painfully  dissolved,  came  upon 
him  with  a  force  which  he  could  not  resist.  "  Lak- 
anal,"  he  said,  "  it  is  hard  to  think  that,  being  once  so 
closely  bound  together,  we  are  now  so  wide  apart. 
Our  broken  friendship  is  one  of  the  lesser  ruins  of  that 
hateful  revolution  which,  alas,  will  leave  so  many 
mightier  ones  in  its  fiery  track  of  desolation.  We  are 
now  irreconcilable  in  thoughts,  feelings,  and  convic 
tions.  Between  us  there  is  a  mortal  antagonism." 

Lakanal.  "  I  deplore  it  as  much  as  you  do.  But 
the  revolution  was  no  work  of  mine,  although  I  lend 
a  helping  hand  to  its  development.  It  is  the  work  of 
ages  of  oppression  and  abuses.  There  are  no  revolu 
tions  where  the  people  are  happy." 

Tintin  Calandro.  "  Better  be  unhappy  than  crim 
inal.  But  what  do  you  want  as  a  substitute  for  what 
you  repudiate?" 

Lakanal.     "  A  patriarchal  government." 

Tintin  Calandro.  "  Then  you  must  raise  up  again 
what  you  have  pulled  down.  What  is  a  patriarchal 
government,  if  not  the  absolute  one  of  the  father  and 
ruler  of  a  family  by  divine  and  natural  right?  Abra 
ham,  Isaac,  and  Jacob  were  the  despotic  chiefs  of  their 
tribe,  whose  property  they  disposed  of  as  they  pleased. 
They  had  slaves,  and  their  authority  was  supreme  over 
their  own  children  even  in  matters  of  life  and  death, 
with  no  other  responsibility  than  unto  God.  What 
nonsense,  therefore,  are  you  talking  to  me  ?  " 

Lakanal.  "  I  may  not  have  been  correct  in  the  use 
of  the  word,  if  taken  in  its  strictly  historical  meaning. 
I  merely  wanted  to  convey  the  idea  that  we,  the  party 


A  UBER T  D  UBA  YE  T.  375 

of  reform,  desire  to  establish  society  on  a  basis  of 
equality  for  all  men,  by  virtue  of  which  no  one  shall 
be  forever  at  the  foot  of  the  ladder,  and  another  at  the 
top." 

Tintin  Calandro.  "  The  shortest  way  to  accomplish 
your  purpose  would  be  to  prohibit  ladders  altogether. 
But  the  question  is,  whether  you  could  get  along  with 
out  ladders.  For  instance,  it  would  be  difficult  to  build 
without  them  ;  and  civilization,  you  know,  is  choice 
in  her  tastes,  and  requires  a  rather  stately  edifice  for 
a  shelter." 

Lakanal.  "  Ladders  are  indispensable  in  the  social 
state,  and  can  not  be  looked  upon  with  distrust,  or 
displeasure,  if,  among  their  occupants  from  top  to  bot 
tom,  there  is  a  rotation  by  which  they  will  frequently 
change  their  respective  positions." 

Tintin  Calandro,  "  Perhaps  it  would  network  well. 
The  one  who  hands  up  the  stone  at  the  foot,  might 
not,  if  at  the  top,  know  how  to  cement  it  in  its  proper 
place  with  the  required  skill.  The  stone  might  tum 
ble  down  and  break  the  skull  of  somebody.  But  why 
not  simplify  the  matter?  Instead  of  having  rotation 
among  those  who  occupy  the  different  steps  of  the 
ladder,  why  not  give  that  rotatory  movement  to  the 
ladder  itself?  Let  it  revolve  on  an  axis  like  a  wheel. 
Thus  there  could  be  no  permanent  up,  and  no  perma 
nent  down.  The  only  difficulty  would  be,  that  such  a 
ladder  might  batter  to  the  ground  what  it  might  come 
in  contact  with,  and  be  an  instrument  of  demolition, 
rather  than  construction." 

Lakanal.  "  This  is  sarcastic  rather  than  argumen 
tative." 

Tintin  Calandro.  "  I  do  not  agree  to  that.  There 
may  be  a  good  deal  of  condensed  argument  in  a  sar 


3  76  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

casm.  But,  since  your  colleagues  and  yourself  are  such 
wonderful  architects,  let  me  hear  furtherof  your  plans, 
before  I  pass  judgment.  First,  explain  to  me  the  rea 
sons  why  you  want  to  make  a  clean  sweep  of  what  is 
already  in  existence,  instead  of  modifying  and  improv 
ing  it,  and  thus  saving  materials?" 

LakanaL  "  Look  at  the  condition  of  the  world.  Have 
not  the  masses,  ever  since  nations  existed,  been  work 
ing  for  the  benefit  of  the  few  ?  The  masses,  composed 
of  mere  beasts  of  labor  and  burden,  toiling  incessantly 
for  their  masters !  The  masses,  made  up  of  the  in 
numerable  poor,  starving  to  give  more  luxuries  to  a 
handful  of  rich  oppressors !  Should  not  this  be 
changed,  if  possible?  See  what  are  the  chances  in  life 
for  the  children  of  the  disinherited  many,  compared 
with  the  chances  favoring  the  children  of  the  chosen 
few.  Are  they  equal?  No  !  Why  should  this  be  so? 
The  source  of  all  evil  in  civilized  societies  is  the  un 
equal  division  of  the  goods  of  the  earth.  All  the 
crimes,  all  the  miseries  which  afflict  mankind,  are  at 
tributable  to  the  struggle  eternally  going  on  to  acquire 
wealth  for  personal  use,  or  abuse,  and  for  distinction. 
Let  there  be  no  individual  wealth,  and  the  struggle 
ceases,  and  with  the  struggle  will  also  cease  the  crimes 
and  miseries.  But  how  is  this  to  be  done?  How  are 
the  opulent  to  be  reached  ?  They  are  protected  by  all 
monarchical  forms  of  government.  Down,  therefore, 
with  all  monarchies !  It  is  a  necessity,  and  it  will  be 
an  economy.  Within  the  range  of  the  shadow  of 
every  church  there  is  a  conservative  influence  exer 
cised  on  behalf  of  the  throne  and  the  hoardings  of 
Dives.  Down,  therefore,  with  the  church  !  It  is  an 
other  necessity,  and  will  be  another  economy.  Down 
with  the  cross !  It  is  the  emblem  of  resignation  and 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

patient  endurance ;  it  must  not  be  kept  before  the 
eyes  of  the  masses,  who  are  called  upon  to  spurn 
Caesar  and  pay  no  tribute  but  to  their  own  treasury 
Down  with  the  Gospel,  good  as  far  as  it  goes  in  some 
of  its  parts  !  But  in  the  whole  it  is  insufficient ;  it 
preaches  only  to  the  soul ;  we  must  also  have  a  Cos- 
pel  for  the  body ;  we  are  composed  of  spirit  and  mat 
ter.  Man  must  be  his  own  god  and  master.  Surely, 
by  this  time,  he  is  old  enough  to  take  care  of  himself." 

Tintin  Calandro.  "  What  will  you  put  in  the  place 
of  the  crown  and  church  ?  " 

Lakanal.  "A  republic  of  free-thinkers,  of  course, 
with  no  salaried  ministers  of  religion,  and  with  no 
endorsement  or  recommendation  of  any  particular 
creed.  Every  man  will  be  his  own  priest  and  will 
worship  the  Creator  of  the  universe,  when,  how,  and 
where  he  may  please.  The  French  republic  being 
once  established,  all  the  monarchies  of  Europe  will 
crumble  into  dust  before  it,  and  there  will  be  uni 
versal  fraternity  among  all  the  nations  of  the  earth. 
Then,  standing  armies  will  be  abolished  —  another 
necessity  of  the  future,  and  another  great  financial 
economy.  Besides,  a  standing  army  is  a  hierarchical 
body,  and  is  in  the  way  of  all  leveling  systems. 
When  there  shall  be  no  monarchy,  no  church,  and  no 
standing  army,  then  the  rich  and  the  poor  will  stand 
front  to  front  without  any  intermediate  shield  or  bar 
rier,  and  when  they  shall  grapple  for  the  final  contest, 
methinks  that,  which  will  be  uppermost  in  the  end, 
is  a  question  easily  to  be  answered." 

Tintin  Calandro.  "  Aye,  aye, — the  beginning  of 
wholesale  robbery." 

Lakanal.  "  It  would  be  no  robbery — it  would  be 
taking  back  what  had  been  selfishly  appropriated  and 


378  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE T. 

abstracted  from  the  common  treasury  of  nature  in 
violation  of  her  laws.  The  rich  have  no  right  to  be 
rich,  because  it  is  always  at  the  expense  of  somebody 
else.  Civil  society  is  nothing  but  a  copartnership 
between  all  its  members  on  an  equal  footing.  Every 
one  of  them  must  bring  to  the  general  fund  all  his 
physical  and  intellectual  powers ;  and  the  results  of 
the  collective  labor  and  industry  of  each  must  be  dis 
tributed  faithfully  among  all  the  partners,  for  the 
purpose  of  promoting  their  individual  comfort  and 
happiness.  It  will  be  a  mutual  insurance  company 
against  the  dangers  of  life  and  the  vicissitudes  of  for 
tune.  But  what  do  I  say?  There  would  be  no  vicis 
situdes  of  fortune.  A  nation  would  be  a  family  of 
brothers.  Its  head,  father,  or  patriarch,  would  be  the 
government  established  by  that  family.  It  is,  by-the- 
by,  what  I  meant  when  I  used  the  word  patriarchal 
at  the  beginning  of  this  conversation." 

Tintin  Calandro.  "  But  this  government,  father, 
or  patriarch,  who  is  to  prescribe  what  every  one,  ac 
cording  to  the  measure  of  his  capacity,  is  to  do  in 
your  community  of  socialists,  and  who  is  to  distrib 
ute  among  the  mass,  in  person,  or  through  his  dele 
gates,  the  fruit  of  the  labor  of  its  component  parts, 
will  be  a  supreme  authority.  Where  there  is  author 
ity  and  therefore  superiority  on  one  side,  there  must 
be  obedience  and  inferiority  on  the  other.  Hence, 
where  will  be  your  equality?" 

Lakanal.  "  There  will  be  no  individual  superior 
ity,  but  a  collective  one.  It  will  be  the  authority  of 
the  mass  exercised  by  its  representative.  It  will  be 
like  the  volition  of  man  making  his  fingers  or  feet  act 
at  his  pleasure  for  the  service  of  his  whole  organiza 
tion.  Besides,  the  delegation  of  authority  will  be 
transient  and  rotatory." 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

Tint  in  Calandro.  "  Enough  of  this  farrago ;  I  see 
what  you  are  driving  at.  A  man  will  have  no  prop 
erty,  no  wife,  no  children,  no  family  of  his  own." 

Lakanal.  "  Why  not  ?  Let  there  be  but  one  fam 
ily — the  national  family." 

Tintin  Calandro.  "  This  will  lead  to  a  degree  of 
demoralization  and  servitude  never  heard  of  before." 

Lakanal.  "  To  secure  to  man  the  means  of  grati 
fying  all  his  physical  wants  can  not  lead  to  demorali 
zation.  To  suppose  it,  is  a  slander  against  nature 
itself.  It  is  the  reverse  of  the  proposition  which  is 
true.  Man,  being  made  easy  on  that  point — the  sat 
isfaction  of  his  physical  wants — will  be  left  free  to 
attend  to  his  moral  and  intellectual  improvement. 
So  much  for  the  demoralization  you  apprehend.  As 
to  what  you  call  servitude,  if  servitude  at  all,  it  will 
be  like  the  servitude  of  the  universe  to  God,  its  cen 
tral  point ;  it  will  be  the  servitude  of  man  in  his  in 
dividuality  to  man  in  the  aggregate — of  the  human 
fraction  to  the  nation  of  which  it  is  a  part." 

Tintin  Calandro.  "These  are  high-sounding  words, 
which,  no  doubt,  will  elicit  shouts  of  applause  from  the 
multitudinous  and  ignorant  rabble  ;  but,  when  you 
shall  attempt  to  carry  into  practice  your  theoretical 
plans  in  all  their  details,  I  am  sure  that  you  will  meet 
with  insurmountable  obstacles  of  which  you  have  not 
thought." 

Lakanal.  "  No !  We  have  not  thought  of  those 
details  and  those  difficulties.  It  is  not  time  yet. 
First,  we  must  do  away  with  the  monarchy,  the 
church,  and  the  army — next,  we  must  inaugurate  a 
republic — and  then,  when  in  a  republic,  the  rich  alone 
shall  remain  to  be  disposed  of,  I  am  sure  that  the 
poor  will  find  some  way  to  establish  practically,  on  a 
solid  foundation,  that  liberty,  fraternity,  and  equality 


3 80  *  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

which  they  require,  and  will  work  out  effectively 
some  plan  to  maintain  forever  the  duration  of  that 
new  system  which  appears  to  you  so  monstrous,  and 
impossible  in  its  execution.  But,  to  the  business  of 
the  hour.  Ibeg  you  to  lead  me  to  some  public  house 
in  a  neighboring  town  or  village,  where  I  shall  estab 
lish  my  headquarters  whilst  executing  my  mission. 
We  shall  return  with  the  mayor,  in  whose  presence  I 
shall  take  possession  of  the  Chdteau  de  Chant  illy  and 
relieve  you  of  your  responsibilities." 

Tintin  Calandro  took  his  hat  and  cane,  and  said  : 
"  I  am  ready." 

On  their  entering  the  town  of  Chantilly,  they  were 
met  by  a  boy  in  rags,  who,  in  a  whining  tone,  begged 
for  himself  and  his  starving  mother  at  home.  As  no 
attention  was  paid  to  his  doleful  story,  he  pertina 
ciously  followed  the  two  gentlemen,  until  Tintin  Ca 
landro  stopped  in  front  of  a  butcher's  stall.  "  Lak- 
anal,"  he  said  with  caustic  playfulness,  "  I  think  that 
you  have  too  long  turned  a  deaf  ear  to  your  little 
brother,  and  that  you  ought  to  share  with  him  some 
of  the  coin  which  you,  no  doubt,  have  in  your  human 
itarian  pocket.  It  would  not  be  an  uncalled-for  ap 
plication  of  your  doctrine  of  an  equal  division  of  the 
goods  of  mother  earth." 

Lakanal  replied  not,  but  bought  a  loaf  of  bread  and 
a  few  pounds  of  beef,  which  he  gave  to  the  little  beg 
gar,  who,  instead  of  going  away  with  the  provisions, 
seemed  to  hesitate  and  to  look  with  apprehension 
toward  the  extremity  of  the  short  street  in  which 
they  were.  "What  is  the  matter?"  inquired  Lak 
anal,  "  and  why  don't  you  run  fast,  to  satisfy  the 
hunger  of  your  starving  mother?" 

"  I  am  afraid,"  answered  the  boy. 


A UBER T  D UBA  YET.  381 

"  Afraid  of  what  ?  " 

"  I  am  afraid  of  big  Joe,  whom  I  saw  just  now  be 
hind  yonder  wall.  He  will  beat  me  and  take  away 
all  that  you  gave." 

"I  think,"  said  Tintin  Calandro,  laughing,  "that 
you  ought,  Lakanal,  to  lose  no  time  in  preaching  in 
your  best  style  to  big  Joe;  for  he  seems  disposed  not 
merely  to  share  liberally  in  what  others  have,  but  even 
to  take  it  all  to  himself.  I  fear  that  you  will  need  a 
little  patriarchal  flogging  and  hanging  in  your  new 
republic,  to  help  moral  suasion  in  enforcing  the  ob 
servance  of  universal  communism  and  fraternity." 

When  they  reached  the  only  tavern  which  the 
town  possessed,  Lakanal  noticed  that  its  sign  was  a 
sword  with  this  inscription  :  "  a  I'epec  de  Conde"  He 
frowned,  and,  after  having  bespoken  an  apartment, 
he  said  roughly  to  the  tavern-keeper,  who  had  obsequi 
ously  come  out,  hat  in  hand,  to  salute  him :  "  In  the 
name  of  the  National  Convention,  of  which  I  am  the 
representative,  I  order  you  to  strike  out  that  inscrip 
tion."  "  Yes,  citizen,"  replied  the  poor  fellow,  trem 
bling  all  over,  "  but  what  shall  I  put  in  its  place?  " 

"  Put,  h  I'epec  du  peuple.  There  should  be  no  other 
sword  honored  in  France  than  the  sword  of  the  people." 

"  Bravo  !  "  exclaimed  Tintin  Calandro.  "  I  hope 
that  history  will  not  forget  to  relate  that  one  of  the 
great  achievements  of  the  National  Convention  of 
France  was  to  change  the  name  of  a  tavern." 

The  tavern-keeper  conducted  Tintin  Calandro  and 
Lakanal  to  the  chamber  destined  to  the  latter,  and 
retired.  That  chamber  was  on  the  first  floor,  and  its 
windows  opened  on  the  street.  At  the  moment  when 
Lakanal  was  saying  to  Tintin  Calandro,  "  Now  let  us 
call  on  the  mayor  of  the  town,"  a  newsboy  was  heard 


382  A  UBER  T  D UBA  YE  T. 

shouting  at  the  top  of  his  shrill  voice :  "  Who  wants 
a  journal  with  the  latest  intelligence?  News!  news! 
Return  from  England  of  the  Princess  de  Lamballe, 
the  friend  of  the  Queen.  Her  arrest  and  incarceration 
at  the  Abbaye" 

"  Good  God  ! "  exclaimed  Tintin  Calandro,  "  she 
must  be  saved,  cost  what  may !  Lakanal,"  he  said, 
turning  to  that  individual,  who,  it  must  be  confessed, 
showed,  in  his  habitually  harsh-looking  face,  that  he 
sympathized  with  the  intense  distress  in  which  he  saw 
the  friend  of  his  youth,  "  help  me  in  setting  free  the 
Princess  de  Lamballe  and  in  removing  her  to  foreign 
parts.  I  will  engage  on  her  behalf  that  she  will  never 
come  back  any  more.  Grant  me  that,  and  I  will  for 
give  you  all  that  you  have  done.  I  will  love  you  as 
before — nay,  I  will  be  your  slave,  your  dog,  if  you 
please."  Lakanal  looked  at  him  with  compassion,  but 
shook  his  head  negatively.  "  I  throw  myself  at  your 
feet,"  continued  Tintin  Calandro.  "  I  will  kiss  them, 
and  kiss  the  dust  of  the  floor  on  which  you  stand,  if 
you  grant  me  the  boon  for  which  I  implore  you.  I 
have  never  asked  you  for  any  favor.  It  is  the  first, 
and  shall  be  the  last,"  and,  suiting  his  action  to  his 
words,  he  embraced  the  knees  of  Lakanal. 

The  stern  tribune — the  man  of  stone — was  moved. 
He  struggled  to  raise  Tintin  from  his  supplicating 
posture,  saying:  "You  overrate  my  power  and  influ 
ence.  I  can  not  open  the  doors  of  the  prison  of  the 
Princess  de  Lamballe." 

"  Can  not  Robespierre  do  it  ?  "  asked  Tintin  Calan 
dro,  gasping  for  breath. 

"  Yes,  he  could." 

"  Then,  she  is  saved  !  "  exclaimed  Tintin  in  a  trans- 
port  of  joy,  "  for  I  once  heard  Robespierre  say,  Lak- 


A  UBER T  D UBA  YET.  383 

nal,  that  he  was  so  circumstanced  toward  you,  that, 
should  you  ever  ask  him  for  anything,  he  was  bound 
to  grant  it,  if  he  could,  and  that  he  had  himself  given 
you  that  assurance.  Is  it  so?" 

"  It  is." 

"  Save  the  Princess  de  Lamballe." 

"  I  dare  not.     I  can  not." 

"  Life  for  life,  Lakanal.  I  saved  yours  once.  1 
never  would  have  reminded  you  of  it,  but  for  the  ex 
tremity  to  which  I  am  reduced.  Grant  me  the  life  I 
sue  for,  and  your  debt  to  me  is  cancelled." 

Lakanal  grasped  the  hands  of  Tintin  Calandro, 
which  he  shook  convulsively.  "  Spare  me,"  he  said, 
"  the  agony  of  this  horrible  scene.  My  heart  bleeds, 
but  your  prayer  can  not  be  granted.  Oh  !  do  not  look 
at  me  thus,  but  listen.  I  am  bound  hand  and  foot  by 
mysterious  bonds  which  I  can  not  break.  I  belong 
to  a  secret  society,  and  have  taken  the  terrific  oath 
which  it  imposes.  That  society  has  undertaken  to  rev 
olutionize  the  world  with  every  element  of  destruc 
tion.  Implicit  obedience  must  be  paid  to  its  man 
dates.  All  that  it  dooms,  be  it  of  flesh  and  bone,  or 
stone  and  mortar,  must  perish.  The  Princess  de  Lam 
balle  is  one  of  the  doomed — she  first,  to  pave  the  way 
and  as  an  experiment — then  the  King  and  Queen. 
According  to  orders,  there  will  be  to-day  a  tremend 
ous  rising  of  the  populace  in  Paris,  and  all  the  inmates 
of  the  Abbaye  and  other  prisons  are  to  be  massa 
cred  without  an  exception.  It  is,  as  you  see,  too 
late  for  me  to  interfere,  even  if  I  could." 

With  a  shriek  of  horror  Tintin  Calandro  darted 
from  the  room,  and  rushed  to  a  stable  which  was 
within  the  court-yard  of  the  tavern,  and  in  which  post 
horses  were  kept.  He  flung  himself  on  one  of  them 


384  AUBERT  D  UBA  YE  T. 

and  galloped  frantically  on  the  high-road  to  Paris, 
changing  at  every  post  station  his  wearied  horse  for  a 
fresh  one.  The  distance  is  about  thirty-five  miles ; 
he  overcame  it  in  two  hours  and  a  half.  When  in 
sight  of  the  city,  his  too  hard-ridden  horse  fell  from 
exhaustion.  Dismounted,  but  unconscious  of  fatigue, 
Tintin  Calandro  pushed  desperately  forward  among 
a  crowd  of  intensely  excited  people,  who,  like  a  hot 
stream  of  lava,  were  pouring  into  Paris.  "  The  Jaco 
bins  were  up  and  doing,"  they  said.  "  There  was  a 
gigantic  and  bloody  insurrection.  The  prisons  had 
been  broken  open,  and  the  massacre  of  their,  inmates 
had  begun."  Each  one  was  striving  which  should  be 
the  foremost  to  see  what  was  going  on.  Tintin  Ca- 
landro's  feverish  anxiety  seemed  to  endow  him  with 
superhuman  strength,  and  he  ran,  rather  than  walked, 
with  unabated  speed.  When  he  reached  the  quay  on 
the  Seine  in  front  of  the  Louvre,  his  further  advance 
was  stopped  by  a  dense  mass  of  men  and  women  yell 
ing  like  demons,  and  carrying  aloft,  stuck  on  a  long 
pike,  the  gory  head  of  a  woman — the  head  of  the  Prin 
cess  de  Lamballe.  He  looked  at  that  ghastly  object, 
uttered  a  piercing  shriek,  and  fled — a  raving  maniac. 

On  the  next  day,  the  work  of  demolition  had  be 
gun  at  the  Chdtean  de  C/tantilly,  and  when  the  sun 
went  down,  one  of  the  towers  had  fallen  with  a  crash 
heard  far  and  wide,  and  was  answered  by  the  long 
howl  of  a  dog.  It  was  Norlingue,  thus  named  after 
one  of  the  victories  of  the  great  Cond£ — Norlingue, 
who  had,  at  first  sight,  exhibited  such  antipathy 
against  Lakanal.  That  howl  was  repeated  incessantly 
during  the  whole  night,  and  in  the  morning,  poor 
Norlingue  was  found  lying  dead  on  the  ruins  of  the 
tower. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 

THERESA   CABARRUS   AND    TALLIEN — FALL  AND 
DEATH   OF    ROBESPIERRE. 

EVERY  day  was  demonstrating  the  appropriate 
ness  of  the  famous  comparison  of  the  French  revolution 
with  Saturn  devouring  his  children,  and  there  was  no 
Cybele  watching  over  the  monstrous  appetite  of  the 
unnatural  parent,  to  cheat  the  cannibalism  of  the 
near-sighted  deity  by  the  substitution  of  a  swaddled 
stone  for  flesh  and  blood.  On  the  contrary,  it  hap 
pened  that,  more  than  once,  there  was  some  woman 
who,  either  voluntarily  or  involuntarily,  directly  or 
indirectly,  assisted  and  encouraged  the  settled  deter 
mination  of  the  god  to  feed  on  his  own  family. 
Charlotte  Corday  had  dispatched  Marat.  The  women 
of  the  fish  market  and  of  the  sewers  of  Paris  had 
contributed,  as  much  as  their  male  associates,  to  the 
fall  of  the  Girondists,  by  intimidating  the  Convention 
and  stimulating  Robespierre  and  his  party.  Danton, 
the  Jupiter  of  the  revolution,  had  not  escaped  like 
his  prototype  the  jaws  of  Saturn.  He,  who  had 
flung  the  head  of  a  king  at  the  feet  of  all  the  kings 
of  Europe  as  the  gauntlet  of  defiance — he  who  had 
shouted  that  "  to  dare,  dare  again,  and  always  dare," 
was  the  sure  way  to  success,  had  listened  to  the  ap 
peals  of  one  whom  he  tenderly  loved.  She  had  said  : 
"  Let  there  be  no  more  bloodshed ";  she  had  con 
quered  the  heart  and  the  will  of  the  thunderer.  He 
17  (385) 


386 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


could  not  resist  that  voice ;  he  yielded,  and  refused  a 
seat  among  the  sanguinary  Committee  of  Public  Safe 
ty.  It  was  taken  as  a  censure,  and  to  censure  the 
Committee  of  Public  Safety,  was  to  engage  in  a  duel 
with  death.  He  had  gone  farther:  he  had,  in  the 
presence  of  Robespierre,  let  fall  some  words  of  blame 
against  the  ultra-revolutionists.  It  was  construed 
into  a  decided  act  of  hostility  and  reaction.  What 
was  still  more  fatal  to  him,  his  wife  had,  with  pardon 
able  imprudence,  withdrawn  him  from  the  scene  of 
action,  and  carried  him  away  from  Paris  to  Arcis  sur 
Aube,  his  native  place,  where  the  disarmed  Titan  had 
reposed  several  weeks  in  the  bosom  of  conjugal  love. 
When  he  returned  to  his  seat  in  the  Convention,  he 
was  lost.  All  had  been  prepared  for  his  rum.  He 
was  accused  of  a  conspiracy  against  the  republic, 
judged,  condemned,  and  executed  without  being  per 
mitted  to  defend  himself.  He  had  been  warned  of 
the  danger,  and  had  replied :  "  They  will  not  dare." 
Strange  that  he  should  have  forgotten  that  he  was  the 
apostle  of  daring,  and  had  formed  disciples  who  had 
bettered  the  instruction  !  There  is  a  sort  of  political 
infatuation  which  is  striking  in  the  uniformity  of  its 
effects,  and  yet  no  ambition  has  ever  been  able  to 
guard  itself  against  its  contagious  influence.  The 
hope  of  being  an  exception  always  soars  above  the 
warning  given  by  the  undeniable  evidence  resulting 
from  historical  precedents.  What  law  more  invaria 
ble  than  the  one  by  which  it  is  decreed,  that  the  orig 
inal  mover  or  abettor  of  a  revolution  seldom  or  never 
profits  by  it  ?  There  comes  a  time  when  the  demon 
who  has  been  evoked  and  enslaved,  breaks  his  bonds 
and  tears  the  magician  to  pieces.  There  comes  the 
inevitable  hour  when  the  leader  discovers  that  he  who 


A  UBER  T  D UBA  YE T.  387 

precedes  the  Juggernaut  car  of  revolution,  does  it 
after  the  fashion  of  yoked  oxen — that  he  is  driven, 
not  driving — and  that  when  he  stops,  or  does  not  go 
fast  enough,  he  is  trampled  upon.  In  the  Cabinet  of 
the  many-headed  tyrant,  whoever  accepts  the  portfolio 
of  the  ministry  of  proscription  is  sure  to  wield  the 
sceptre  of  power.  But,  whenever  he  attempts  to  per 
form  an  act  of  humanity,  he  falls  never  to  rise  again. 
Revolutions  acknowledge  no  masters  ;  they  are  never 
controlled  by  the  will  of  man.  Onward  they  move, 
crushing  every  obstacle,  until  they  stop  of  their  own 
accord,  or  from  sheer  fatigue,  or  from  the  necessity 
of  digesting  the  food  with  which  they  have  been 
gorged.  It  is  only  then,  at  the  appointed  hour,  that, 
out  of  the  smoke  and  dust  where  he  had  remained 
concealed  from  view,  appears  on  the  scene  the  man 
of  destiny,  who  calls  himself  Caesar,  Cromwell,  Bona 
parte.  It  matters  not  what  name  it  is. 

Robespierre  committed  the  same  fault  as  Danton, 
whom,  in  consequence  of  it,  he  had  sent  to  the  scaf 
fold.  He  was  forty  days  without  appearing  in  the 
Committee  of  Public  Safety,  or  in  the  Convention, 
and  thus  lost  more  of  his  influence  than  he  supposed. 
He  thought  that  the  dictatorship  which  he  had  de 
sired  for  himself  alone,  and  not  with  colleagues,  was 
at  last  within  his  grasp.  He  wished  to  establish  on 
clean  ground  the  foundations  of  popular  sovereignty, 
of  which  he  fondly  hoped  to  be  the  representative, 
after  having  swept  out  of  sight  the  corpses  and  blood 
which  began  to  stink  in  his  nostrils,  as  soon  as  he  had 
concluded  that  they  were  no  longer  necessary.  There 
fore,  he  did  not  want  to  appear  to  participate  in  the 
butcheries  daily  ordered  by  the  Committee  of  Public 
Safety.  But  before  beginning  to  carry  his  secret  in. 


388  A  UBER T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

tentions  into  effect,  he  desired  to  get  rid  of  some  mem 
bers  of  the  Convention  whose  opposition  he  feared, 
and  he  was  plotting  their  ruin.  They  were  not  so 
blind  as  not  to  discover  it,  and  thus  a  death  struggle 
ensued  between  those  irreconcilable  antagonists.  A 
woman  was  destined  to  have  considerable  influence  in 
shaping  its  final  issue.  But  before  she  took  a  part  in 
it,  another  woman  had  attempted  to  deliver  France 
from  Robespierre.  She  presented  herself  at  his  dom 
icile,  armed  with  two  knives.  Being  arrested,  she 
avowed  her  intention,  and  said  "  that  she  wanted  to 
see  of  what  stuff  a  tyrant  was  made."  She  was  twen 
ty  years  old,  and  her  name  was  Cecile  Renault. 
Robespierre  had  escaped  that  imitator  of  Charlotte 
Corday  ;  he  had  yet  to  meet  a  more  artful  and  dan 
gerous  enemy  in  Theresa  Cabarrus. 

This  woman  was  born  in  Spain.  Her  romantic  ca 
reer  ended  in  her  dying  Princess  de  Chimay — the  wife 
of  Joseph  de  Caraman,  a  descendant  from  a  family  in 
France  to  which  there  was  no  superior  save  the  royal 
one ;  he  was  a  Spanish  Grandee,  the  first  peer  of 
Hainault,  and  a  chamberlain  to  the  King  of  the  Neth 
erlands.  Her  father,  who  was  a  Frenchman  by  birth 
and  distinguished  for  his  abilities,  particularly  as  a 
financier,  had  introduced  into  Spain  the  system  of 
banking,  and,  for  his  public  services,  had  been  created 
by  Charles  IV.  a  Count  of  Castile.  He  took  care 
to  give  his  daughter  the  most  brilliant  education, 
and  when  she  was  only  sixteen  years  of  age,  he  pre 
sented  her,  in  1788,  to  the  court  of  France,  whose 
expiring  glories  she  witnessed  and  whose  last  orna 
ment  she  became.  Her  beauty  and  her  graces  were 
unrivaled,  and  she  possessed  that  rare  endowment 
which  makes  beauty  perfect  and  resistless — that  in- 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  3  89 

describable  charm  which  can  not  be  analyzed  and  is 
called  fascination.  She  spoke  three  languages  with 
equal  facility,  accuracy,  and  elegance,  and,  what  was 
still  more  attractive  for  the  frivolous,  she  sang  and 
danced  divinely.  Two  nations  of  antiquity  had  be 
come  the  fashion  in  France ;  everything  was  to  be 
a  la  Greeque,  or  a  la  Romaine.  Theresa  Cabarrus  had 
to  choose  a  character  in  harmony  with  the  mania  of 
the  epoch.  She  did  so;  but  it  was  not  Lucretia, 
Porcia,  or  Cornelia  whom  she  adopted  for  a  model ; 
it  was  Lais,  Phryne,  or  rather  Aspasia.  She  would 
become  the  priestess  of  the  doctrine  of  free  love,  but 
with  restricted  affinities  which  would  be  permitted  to 
develop  themselves  only  in  favor  of  the  privileged 
few  who  dwell  on  the  high  Olympus  of  society.  She 
would  sacrifice  chastity  and  virtue  to  wealth  and 
power,  without  which  she  could  not  live,  but  it  would 
be  with  the  condescension  and  refinement  of  a  god 
dess,  and  not  with  the  shameless  facility  of  a  courte 
san.  Thus  she,  in  early  youth,  sketched  for  herself 
the  part  she  determined  to  act  in  the  future,  and  she 
performed  it  with  never-failing  consistency.  She  was 
an  extraordinary  compound,  and  she  exhibited, 
throughout  her  long  life,  the  phenomenon  of  an  ex 
cellent  and  energetic  heart  entirely  controlled  by  the 
vicious  logic  of  a  splendid  intellect.  Her  first  step 
on  the  stage  where  she  was  to  shine,  was  taken  with 
mature  deliberation  and  a  frigidity  of  calculation  with 
which  no  impulse  or  inclination  was  permitted  to  in 
terfere.  Thus,  whilst  royalty  and  nobility  were  still 
in  existence  and  in  the  enjoyment  of  their  privileges, 
although  in  imminent  peril,  she  selected  for  her  hus 
band,  among  a  crowd  of  worshipers,  a  man  old 
enough  to  be  her  father.  It  is  true  that  he  was  still 


390 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


handsome  ;  that  he  was  gay  and  witty.  But  probably 
the  main  consideration  for  her  was,  that  he  was  rich, 
and  Marquis  de  Fontenay.  It  followed  that  the  new 
marquise  became — what  she  expected— the  rage  in  all 
the  salons  of  Paris.  She  breathed  like  a  deity  in  an 
atmosphere  of  adoration,  and  in  her  temple  incessant 
ly  burned  the  incense  offered  by  all  those  who  by 
their  talents  or  genius  were  the  pride  of  France. 

After  four  years  of  marriage,  Theresa  Cabarrus  dis 
covered  that  she  had  not  been  properly  mated.  Her 
coronet  of  marquise  had  fallen  to  a  very  low  discount, 
and  the  wealth  of  her  husband  had  vanished.  She 
concluded  that  the  affinities  which  had  led  her  to  his 
arms  were  things  also  of  the  past,  and  she  contem 
plated  a  divorce  under  a  recent  law  that  permitted  a 
separation  between  husband  and  wife  to  take  place 
almost  at  the  will  of  either  party.  But  the  life  of 
Mr.  de  Fontenay  was  threatened ;  he  had  to  fly,  and 
she  could  not  make  up  her  mind,  under  such  circum 
stances,  to  abandon  her  proscribed  husband.  It  was 
resolved  that  they  should  seek  an  asylum  in  Spain, 
and  they  had  reached  Bordeaux,  when  an  event  hap 
pened  which  changed  the  destinies  of  Theresa.  Three 
hundred  royalists  of  that  city,  ruined  by  the  revolu 
tion,  were  anxious  to  escape  with  their  lives,  if  noth 
ing  else,  and  had  taken  their  passage  on  board  of  an 
English  ship  in  the  harbor,  but,  at  the  last  moment, 
the  captain  had  refused  to  sail,  because  the  whole  of 
the  passage-money  had  not  been  paid.  When  Theresa 
heard  this,  she  was  so  fired  with  indignation  as  not  to 
listen  to  the  remonstrances  of  prudent  friends.  She 
instantly  went  on  board,  and  gave  the  captain  the 
three  thousand  francs  which  he  claimed.  He  offered 
a  receipt.  "  I  do  not  care  for  it,"  she  said.  "  Only 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  39 1 

give  me  the  list  of  your  passengers,  that  I  may  know 
the  names  of  those  I  have  saved."  The  list  was  deliv 
ered  to  her,  and  with  it  she  returned,  proud  and  happy. 
Unfortunately,  this  act  of  generosity  became  known, 
and  those  who  had  been  balked  of  their  prey  went  to 
work  to  ascertain  who  was  the  beautiful  woman  that 
had  dared  to  save  aristocrats.  It  seems  that  they 
were  successful ;  for,  the  next  day,  when  she  went  to 
the  theatre,  she  was  hooted  by  a  mob  and  rudely 
handled.  But  her  spirit  was  equal  to  the  occasion. 
"  Look  at  my  cockade,"  she  said.  "  I  am  a  patriot, 
as  you  see.  I  assure  you  that  you  have  been  misin 
formed.  The  persons  who  sailed  yesterday  are  not 
enemies  of  the  revolution."  "  We  shall  judge  for 
ourselves,"  shouted  one  of  the  crowd.  "  Give  me  the 
list  of  the  passengers,  for  we  know  that  you  have  it  in 
your  bosom."  "  Out  with  it,"  cried  another.  "  It  is 
useless  to  deny  it.  You  see  that  we  have  good  spies." 
A  third  one  threw  himself  on  her,  and  tried  to  force 
the  concealed  list  out  of  the  place  where  it  was  report 
ed  to  be.  She  repulsed  him  with  all  her  strength, 
and,  as  he  still  held  in  his  grasp  one  of  her  hands,  she 
took  the  paper  out  of  her  bosom  with  the  other  which 
was  free,  and  tore  it  with  her  teeth,  exclaiming :  "  I 
will  not  give  it ;  you  may  kill  me  first."  At  that  mo 
ment,  a  man  stepped  through  the  crowd,  and  with  an 
imperative  sign  of  the  hand  ordered  them  to  disperse. 
It  was  Tallien,  the  proconsul,  a  member  of  the  Na 
tional  Convention,  who,  with  two  associates,  Isabeau 
and  Lacombe,  had  been  sent  to  Bordeaux  to  purge 
that  city  of  its  impure  blood.  Lacombe  had  already 
issued  an  order  for  the  arrest  of  citoyenne  Fontenay, 
suspected  of  a  want  of  patriotism.  The  order  was 
obeyed,  and  Theresa,  instead  of  the  pleasure  that  she 


392  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

expected  at  the  theatre,  had  the  mortification  of  being 
carried  to  prison. 

Under  the  triumvirate  of  Tallien,  Isabeau,  and  La- 
combe  at  Bordeaux,  to  be  in  prison  and  accused  of  a 
want  of  patriotism,  was  to  be  with  the  prospect  of 
being  decapitated  in  twenty-four  hours.  Fortunately 
for  Theresa,  she  had  in  Paris,  once  before,  met  Tal 
lien,  on  whom  her  beauty  had  exercised  the  same  fas 
cination  which  it  did  on  everybody  else.  He  had 
hurried  to  visit  her  after  her  arrest,  apparently  as  an 
inflexible  judge,  and  came  out  a  devoted  lover,  deter 
mined  to  sacrifice  everything  to  his  passion,  if  neces 
sary.  When  he  stepped  out  of  the  prison,  the  saga 
cious  jailer  hastened  to  take  pen  and  ink,  and  wrpte 
to  Robespierre :  "  Everybody  betrays  the  republic. 
The  citizen  Tallien  pardons  aristocrats."  The  pro 
consul  had  not  pardoned  an  aristocrat,  but  the  love 
liest  woman  of  her  time — an  enchantress  as  powerful 
as  the  Armida  of  Tasso.  The  penetration  of  the 
turnkey  had  not  been  at  fault.  Theresa  Cabarrus  was 
free.  Tallien,  at  that  time,  was  young,  handsome, 
full  of  energy  and  eloquence.  He  had  acted  a  con 
spicuous  part  in  the  Convention,  had  dared  to  beard 
Robespierre  himself  at  the  tribune,  and  was  backed  by 
reliable  and  numerous  friends.  He  was  one  of  the 
most  influential  leaders  of  the  " Montague" ;  his  star 
was  culminating  over  the  horizon,  and  there  was  no 
telling  how  high  was  the  zenith  which  it  might  reach. 
For  the  present,  he  was  a  proconsul  of  the  terrible 
republic.  He  was  armed  with  immense  power,  and 
unlimited  wealth  was  at  his  disposal,  for  plunder  was 
the  order  of  the  day,  and  he  had  nothing  to  do  but  to 
stretch  his  hands  and  take  largely  in  the  dark  out  of 
the  well-filled  exchequer  of  confiscation.  Clearly 


A  UBER  T  -D  USA  YE  T. 


393 


there  were  irresistible  affinities  in  Theresa  which  har 
monized  with  those  of  Tallien.  The  result  of  the  in 
terview  proves  it.  Mr.  de  Fontenay  was  permitted  to 
cross  the  Pyrenees  in  safety,  but  alone.  "  Remain," 
had  Tallien  said  to  Theresa,  "  and  be  the  Egeria  of 
the  Montagne,  as  Madam  Roland  was  of  the  Gironde! 
"  I  know  nothing  of  the  Montagne,  or  of  the  Gironde" 
was  the  reply.  "  I  know  only  of  the  people.  Let  me 
serve  them."  So,  they  were  united  in  some  sort  of 
Jacobin  wedlock,  and  the  ci-devant  marquise  became 
a  plebeian  and  a  patriot.  Tallien  had  gallantly  ten 
dered  to  her  for  a  residence  the  magnificent  hotel 
which  he  occupied  on  the  Place  de  Llechafaud,  as  it 
was  called,  because  it  was  provided  with  a  guillotine, 
which  was  in  such  active  operation  that  this  Place  de 
Lechafaud  might  have  been  considered  as  decorated 
with  a  never-failing  fountain — a  fountain  of  blood. 
Theresa,  who  had  no  taste  for  such  a  sight,  refused 
the  offer.  "  Then,"  said  Tallien,  "  I  will  come  to 
your  own  house."  "  No.  It  is  not  you,  but  the  guil 
lotine,  that  must  move";  and  the  guillotine  did  move 
away.  This  wonderful  woman  soon  subjugated  the 
two  colleagues  of  her  new  husband,  Isabeau  the  tiger, 
and  Lacombe  the  wolf,  who,  spell-bound  under  the 
charm  with  which  she  had  fascinated  them,  forgot  to 
fill  up  daily,  as  usual,  the  death  lists,  and  the  guillotine 
became  an  idle  and  useless  instrument. 

Theresa  was  again  in  possession  of  what  was  indis 
pensable  to  her  existence — pomp  and  power.  She 
was  again  a  goddess,  and  one  far  superior  to  the  other 
divinities  of  the  day — such  as  the  Goddess  of  Liberty 
and  Reason  — for  she  was  proclaimed  the  Goddess  of 
Pardon.  Since  his  connection  with  Theresa,  the  stern 
proconsul  had  ceased  to  affect  to  live  with  republican 
17* 


394  -*  UnER  T  D  USA  YE T. 

simplicity.  The  Spartan  had  become  a  Persian  satrap. 
He  appeared  in  public  with  her,  sometimes  driving  in 
an  open  carriage,  in  which  her  exquisite  form  was  set 
off  to  advantage  by  Grecian  draperies.  At  other 
times,  in  the  costume  of  an  Amazon,  she  dashed 
through  the  streets,  and,  stopping  where  she  saw  a 
crowd  of  people,  addressed  them  in  language  which 
produced  the  wildest  enthusiasm.  She  literally 
reigned  over  the  populace ;  all  delighted  to  hear  her, 
with  the  mellifluous  voice  of  a  siren,  apotheosize 
liberty,  and  preach  a  republic  of  universal  peace  and 
charity.  But,  when  she  was  within  the  perfumed  pre 
cincts  of  her  boudoir,  she  encouraged  Tallien  in  the 
famous  de  grand  seigneur  which  were  natural  to  him, 
and  which  he  had  perhaps  inherited,  for  he  was  report 
ed  to  be  the  illegitimate  son  of  a  nobleman.  It  is  not 
astonishing,  therefore,  that  an  observer  of  what  was 
going  on  should  have  addressed  Robespierre  in  these 
words :  "  There  are  singular  political  details  about  La 
Fontenay,  and  Bordeaux  seems  to  be  a  labyrinth  of 
intrigue  and  plunder.  We  must  restore  the  people 
to  the  sincere  love  of  the  real  virtues  of  the  republic." 
So,  Tallien  was  recalled,  and  Bordeaux  was  to  be 
subjected  to  the  observance  of  the  "  real  virtues  of 
the  republic  " — which  meant  that  heads  were  again  to 
be  tossed  about,  thick  and  fast,  like  balls  in  a  tennis- 
yard.  Little  did  Robespierre  dream  how  fatal  to 
himself  would  be  that  order  of  recall.  Such  are  the 
vain  schemes  of  man !  When  the  hour  of  adversity, 
sent  by  fate,  approaches,  it  throws  forward  a  shadow 
which  blinds  the  eyes  of  the  doomed.  Instead  of 
clipping  the  wings  of  Tallien,  as  he  had  intended,  he 
gave  them  the  opportunity  of  gaining  more  strength 
and  amplitude ;  for,  on  his  return,  Tallien  was  elected 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


395 


president  of  the  Convention  for  a  fortnight.  This 
was  a  bitter  pill  for  Robespierre.  He  was  surprised 
at  such  a  success ;  but  what  surprised  him  still  more, 
was  to  find  that  his  former  pupil  was  no  longer  man 
ageable.  That  pupil  had  tasted  the  sweets  of  author 
ity  ;  he  had  become  bolder  and  more  eloquent ;  the 
cub  had  grown  into  a  fully-developed  beast  of  prey, 
with  a  genuine  roar,  a  horrific  row  of  teeth,  a  huge, 
angry  mane,  and  paws  exhibiting  claws  which  were 
not  to  be  despised.  In  fact,  Tallien  had  become  im 
patient  of  the  curb  and  irrepressible.  This  was  not  to 
be  wondered  at,  for  it  was  the  effect  of  his  natural 
temper,  and  he  had  an  ambitious  woman  at  his  elbow. 
He  and  she  regretted  Bordeaux,  and  had  a  secret 
grudge  against  Robespierre.  Probably  at  her  instiga 
tion,  Tallien  seemed  to  have  taken  pleasure  in  teasing 
and  irritating  his  more  experienced  adversary,  and 
more  than  one  lance  was  broken  between  them  in  de 
bate.  That  was  sufficient  to  make  Robespierre  re 
solve  to  have  the  head  of  Tallien.  In  the  meanwhile, 
the  wheels  of  the  revolution  went  on  grinding  faster 
than  they  had  ever  done  before,  and  the  edge  of  the 
guillotine  became  blunted,  so  much  was  it  tasked  to 
fill  up  with  heads  the  insatiable  basket  of  liberty  and 
fraternity.  This  butchery  was  carried  so  far,  that 
Camille  Desmoulins,  in  a  daily  paper  which  he  pub 
lished  under  the  title  of  Le  Vieux  Cordelier,  had 
said,  mockingly :  "  Yesterday,  there  was  a  miracle  in 
Paris.  A  man  actually  died  in  his  bed."  This 
Camille  Desmoulins  is  an  authority  which  can  not  be 
suspected,  for  he  had  styled  himself  "  Attorney-Gen 
eral  of  the  Lamp-post ";  and  when,  a  little  later,  he 
was  put  on  his  trial  and  interrogated  as  to  his  age,  he 
answered :  "  I  am  of  the  same  age  with  the  sans- 


396  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

culotte  Jesus  at  the  time  of  His  death.     I  am  thirty, 
three  years  old." 

In  his  efforts  to  acquire  strength  and  popularity, 
Tallien  was  actively  supported  by  her  who  had  as 
sumed  to  be  his  wife,  and  who  had  taken  his  name. 
She  danced  the  Carmagnole  with  the  red  cap  on  her 
head,  paraded  in  public  promenades  in  transparent 
costumes,  and  appeared  in  the  salons  dn  beau  monde, 
escorted  by  a  host  of  admirers,  with  her  naked  feet 
reposing  on  sandals  and  adorned  on  each  toe  with 
precious  stones.  She  led  the  fashion,  when  full- 
dress  meant  almost  the  absence  of  all  drapery,  such, 
for  instance,  as  we  might  suppose  the  appearance  of 
the  statue  of  the  Medicis  statue  of  Venus,  placed 
under  a  gossamer  veil,  merely  to  increase  the  volup 
tuousness  of  visible  and  embellished  nudity.  She 
even  took  a  bolder  step.  Appearing  before  the  Na 
tional  Convention,  she  presented  to  that  body  a  fluent 
and  lengthy  exposition  of  her  republican  and  evan 
gelizing  views  and  sentiments,  beginning  in  these 
words:  "Citizens  and  representatives,  as  morality  is 
more  than  ever  the  order  of  the  day,"  and  she  went 
on,  entreating  that  women,  now  adorned  with  the 
noble  title  of  citoyennes,  might  be  allowed  to  find 
some  work  to  do  for  the  State  in  training  the  young 
and  alleviating  the  sufferings  of  the  poor  and  the  sick. 
She  was  warmly  applauded.  The  former  marquise 
was  evidently  playing  a  farce,  but  Robespierre  thought 
that  it  was  time  to  put  a  stop  to  such  foolish  exhibi 
tions.  He  seemed  to  have  taken  a  serious  view  of 
them  ;  for  he  desired  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety, 
of  which  he  was  a  member,  to  issue  an  order  of  arrest 
against  her.  Its  phraseology  was  peculiar.  She  was 
designated  as  "  one,  Cabarrus  by  name,  the  daughter 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  397 

of  a  Spanish  banker,  and  the  wife  of  one  Fontenay 
by  name,  ex-member  of  the  parliament  of  Paris."  It 
must  be  observed  that,  in  this  document,  she  was  not 
recognized  as  Madam  Tallien.  This  order  was  kept 
secret  for  several  days.  It  was  executed  in  a  striking 
manner. 

Theresa,  although  she  had  sent  over  the  Pyrenees 
the  Marquis  de  Fontenay,  had  retained  possession  of 
his  ckdteau.  It  was  situated  in  the  environs  of  Paris, 
and  was  called  Fontenay  aux  roses,  a  very  appropriate 
name  for  the  residence  of  its  beautiful  proprietoress, 
or  occupant.  There  she  was  fond  of  giving  enter 
tainments,  where  splendor  vied  with  taste.  Uncon 
scious  of  the  danger  which  threatened  her,  she  had 
prepared  a  fete,  which  was  to  surpass  all  the  preceding 
ones.  It  was  to  be  in  honor  of  Robespierre.  She 
had  a  special  object  in  view,  certainly  deserving  of 
praise,  and  which  was,  to  captivate  him,  and  to  cajole 
him  into  consenting  to  the  inauguration  of  a  policy 
of  clemency  and  moderation.  On  the  day  fixed, 
Robespierre  appeared  with  his  favorite  blue  coat  and 
his  perpetual  bouquet.  He  was,  of  course,  the  guest 
among  the  guests,  the  one  on  whom  her  smiles  and 
powers  of  fascination  were  concentrated.  She  re 
lated  to  him,  in  tones  which  would  have  melted  iron, 
what  triumphs  clemency  had  obtained  in  Bordeaux, 
and  she  begged  that  the  same  experiment  be  made  in 
Paris  and  all  over  France.  Robespierre  was  moved 
to  tears.  He  declared  that  the  god  of  liberty  was 
no  longer  athirst,  that  the  prison  doors  should  be 
opened,  and  that  the  reign  of  peace  and  fraternal 
love  should  begin.  She  embraced  him  enthusiastic 
ally  and  they  danced  together.  When  he  retired,  she, 
with  a  burst  of  joyful  exultation,  said  to  her  friends 


398  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

who  gathered  round  her  :  "  We  are  saved.  He  is  the 
most  just  of  men."  It  is  easy  to  imagine  the  general 
congratulations  and  rejoicings  that  ensued,  but  they 
were  suddenly  changed  into  consternation,  when  gen 
darmes  broke  in  and  showed  their  commission,  signed 
by  Robespierre,  for  the  arrest  of  the  hostess.  It  was 
dramatic  ;  it  produced  what  the  French  call  a  tableau, 
and,  years  after,  was  actually  put  on  the  stage. 

The  plan  of  Robespierre  was  a  crafty  one.  He 
wanted  a  pretext  for  the  arrest  of  Tallien  himself, 
and  he  had  probably  calculated  that,  by  endangering 
the  life  of  the  woman  he  adored,  he  might  drive  him 
into  some  imprudent  action,  or  that  Tallien  would 
sue  for  her  release,  which  he  would  grant  on  condi 
tions  by  which  his  adversary  would  be  tamed  down, 
and  which  would  be  guaranties  for  his  future  conduct. 
If,  on  the  contrary,  Tallien  should  remain  passive,  it 
was  to  be  presumed  that  Theresa  would  resent  his 
not  risking  everything  in  her  defense.  In  that  case, 
Robespierre  supposed  that  she  might  be  tempted  to 
say  something  that  would  serve  his  purposes.  But 
Tallien  saw  the  trap,  and,  although  frantic  with  ap 
prehension,  did  nothing  which  the  spies  of  Robes 
pierre  could  seize  upon  as  a  sufficient  ground  for  ac 
cusation  and  death.  Defeated  in  that  quarter,  the 
wily  monster  approached  Theresa  and  offered  her  life 
and  liberty,  provided  she  signed  a  declaration  of  Tal- 
lien's  treason  against  the  republic  at  Bordeaux.  She 
nobly  replied  :  "  I  am  only  twenty  years  old,  but  I 
would  rather  die  twenty  times."  So,  she  remained  in 
her  dungeon  at  La  Force  for  awhile,  and  was  afterward 
transferred  to  Les  Cannes,  where  she  had  at  least  the 
consolation  of  being  in  distinguished  company,  for 
she  was  incarcerated  in  the  same  cell  with  Josephine 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  399 

Beauharnais,  the  future  Empress  of  France,  and  with 
the  Duchess  of  Aiguillon.  For  some  reason  or  other 
she  was  taken  back  to  La  Force.  In  the  meantime, 
Tallien,  unable  to  effect  her  release,  and  trembling 
lest  every  hour  might  prove  her  last,  watched  the 
daily  processions  of  victims.  Never  had  they  been 
so  frequent,  and  never  had  there  been  so  many  women 
in  the  death  carts.  The  bodies  of  countless  citizens 
were  thrown  into  pits  full  of  quick-lime,  and  it  was 
said  that,  in  the  vicinity  of  Paris,  there  was  a  tannery 
for  human  skins.  It  was  the  "reign  of  terror." 

Theresa  was  pining  away  in  doubt  and  anxiety, 
when,  one  day,  her  rough  jailer,  upon  whom  some 
mysterious  influence  seems  to  have  acted,  said  to  her 
in  gentler  tones  than  usual :  "  Your  health  is  declin 
ing  visibly.  I  will  assume  the  responsibility  of  allow 
ing  you  to  inhale  a  little  fresh  air,"  and,  in  the  even 
ing,  he  took  her  to  a  small  court  of  the  prison,  where 
she  was  left  alone.  She  was  pacing  it  up  and  down, 
when  a  stone  suddenly  fell  at  her  feet.  She  in 
stantly  picked  it  up,  and  saw  that  a  scrap  of  paper 
was  attached  to  it.  She  was  afraid  of  unfolding  the 
note ;  invisible  eyes  might  be  fixed  on  her.  She  re 
tired  to  her  cell,  but  there  darkness  prevailed.  She 
had  to  wait  until  dawn.  How  long  that  night  was ! 
At  last  there  was  light,  and,  with  a  palpitating  heart, 
she  deciphered  these  words  from  Tallien :  "  I  am 
watching  over  you.  Every  evening  you  will  go  into 
the  court  at  nine,  and  I  shall  be  near  you."  For 
eight  days  she  was  permitted  to  comply  with  that 
secret  summons,  and  had  the  comfort  of  receiving 
the  assurance,  by  some  token  or  other,  of  the  pres 
ence  of  a  loving  heart  close  to  her  outside  the  wall. 
On  the  ninth  day,  the  jailer  told  her  that  her  health 


40O  A  UBER  T  D  USA  YE  T. 

was  restored,  and  that  she  needed  no  more  fresh  air. 
She  contrived,  however,  to  send  a  message  to  Tallien. 
Although  a  silent  one,  it  was  eloquent.  One  morn 
ing,  when  he  awoke,  he  saw  glittering  on  a  table  by 
his  bed  a  small  Spanish  dagger  which  belonged  to 
Theresa  Cabarrus,  and  which  had  been  deposited 
there  during  the  night  by  some  unknown  and  unseen 
hand.  "  I  understand  thy  meaning,"  he  exclaimed  ; 
and,  after  pressing  it  to  his  lips,  he  put  it  within  the 
breast  of  his  coat  and  went  out.  The  first  object  he 
saw  was  appalling.  He  stood  facing  four  cartloads 
of  women  on  their  way  to  the  scaffold.  He  gazed 
at  them  with  sickening  eagerness.  Theresa  was  not 
among  them.  Great  was  the  relief,  momentary  as  it 
was,  and  he  went  his  way.  As  chance  would  have  it, 
he  met  Robespierre  and  David,  the  painter,  walking 
arm  in  arm.  He  informed  the  former  that  he  had  a 
request  to  address  to  him.  "  It  is  granted,  if  pos 
sible,"  answered  Robespierre  with  that  air  of  benig 
nity  which  he  sometimes  assumed.  "  Well,  then," 
continued  Tallien,  "  I  entreat  you  to  stop  this  horrid 
spectacle  of  women  being  put  to  death  for  political 
offenses.  It  is  unworthy  of  the  republic  to  strike 
such  weak  and  defenseless  beings.  There  is  one  in 
particular  who  is  unjustly  arrested,  and  whom  I  wish 
to  plead  for."  The  piercing  gray  eyes  of  Robespierre 
were  instantly  fixed  on  the  speaker,  and  a  mocking 
smile  played  on  his  thin  lips.  Tallien's  courage  failed, 
he  hesitated,  he  could  not  utter  the  name  he  had  in 
mind,  and  he  said  :  "  It  is  the  citoyenne  Josephine 
Beauharnais." — "  I  do  not  know  the  citoyenne  Jose 
phine  Beauharnais,"  replied  Robespierre  dryly.  "  Be 
sides,  no  one  is  arrested  illegally."  Tallien  became 
more  pressing.  "  That  the  French  republic,"  he  said, 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


401 


"  should  fear  women  is  contemptible,  almost  laugh 
able.  It  would  be  an  eternal  disgrace  to  shed  their 
blood  on  account  of  their  opinions.  Europe  is 
shocked." 

"  I  do  not  care  a  straw  for  Europe,"  retorted  Robes 
pierre,  with  that  peculiar  hissing  intonation  which 
his  voice  always  assumed  when  he  began  to  be  excited. 
"  But,  as  to  women,  it  is  different.  You  think  that 
they  are  not  dangerous.  It  shows  that  you  do  not 
know  them.  They  are  all  our  enemies ;  they  love  noth 
ing  but  the  orgies  of  royalty.  It  is  by  a  woman  that 
the  republic  will  perish  ";  and  he  turned  on  his  heels. 

"Is  this  your  last  word?"  exclaimed  Tallien. 
"  Well,  you  have  said  it,  cowardly  tyrant.  It  is  by  a 
woman  that  your  republic  will  perish  !  "  and  he  de 
parted.  When  he  was  out  of  sight  and  hearing,  he 
took  Theresa's  dagger  from  his  bosom,  and  swore  on 
it  to  save  her  or  die. 

In  the  afternoon  of  that  day,  Tallien,  Barras,  Fr6- 
ron,  Barrere,  Isabeau,  Collot  D'Herbois,  and  Carnot, 
the  weather  being  intensely  hot,  for  it  was  in  July, 
were  dining  together  outside  of  a  cafe,  under  the  trees 
in  the  Elysian  Fields.  By  a  curious  coincidence, 
Robespierre  and  his  brother,  with  David,  St.  Just,  and 
Lebas,  all  of  them  his  most  devoted  adherents,  were 
also  dining  at  the  same  establishment,  but  in  an  upper 
room,  and  with  closed  doors.  The  evening  having 
5>.olen  on  them,  and  dusk  falling,  both  parties  left  the 
Elysian  Fields  almost  at  the  same  time ;  and,  by  an 
other  strange  coincidence,  found  themselves  face  to 
face  on  the  Place  de  la  Revolution,  close  by  the  statue 
of  Liberty.  Barras,  without  consulting  his  friends, 
stepped  to  Robespierre  and  thus  addressed  him:  "I 
have  the  right  to  speak  the  truth  to  you  at  the  foot 


4O2 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


of  this  statue.  We  have  established  a  reign  of  terror 
by  which  we  only  frighten  one  another.  Let  us  cease 
such  child's  play,  and  be  men." 

"  Why  not,"  replied  Robespierre,  coldly.  "  I  make 
no  one  afraid,  and  I  am  afraid  of  nobody." 

"  Then,"  broke  in  Tallien,  with  ill-restrained  im 
petuosity,  "  if  you  really  wish  to  make  no  one  afraid, 
why  do  you  gorge  the  guillotine  as  you  do?  Why 
are  not  the  prisons  thrown  open  ?  Why  are  those  who 
were  your  friends  treated  as  enemies?  " 

Barras,  interposing,  endeavored  to  pacify  him  and 
recommended  more  moderation  in  language  and  man 
ner.  "  You  and  Robespierre,"  he  said,  "  have  both 
done  too  much  for  your  country  to  forget  it,  and  to 
permit  yourselves  to  sacrifice  the  common  cause  to 
private  interests  and  selfish  passions." 

David  chimed  in :  "I  agree  to  that.  Yes,  let  us 
unite  to  save  the  vessel  of  State,  but  let  Robespierre 
remain  at  the  helm." 

"  I  ask  nothing  else,"  added  St.  Just.  "  I  have 
already  declared  repeatedly  in  our  Jacobin  Clubs  that 
the  committees,  in  whose  hands  the  government  now 
is,  must,  to  insure  the  safety  of  the  republic,  be  re 
placed  by  one  man  of  genius,  patriotism,  and  energy, 
as  dictator,  and  that  that  man  is  Robespierre,  the  only 
one  capable  of  saving  us,  for  you  know  that  the  mo 
ment  for  action  has  come." 

"  As  to  myself,"  said  Robespierre,  with  an  air  of  as 
much  modesty  as  he  could  put  on,  "  I  am  ready  to 
make  way  for  my  betters,  but  it  is  only  true  republi 
cans  who  must  be  the  masters  of  the  situation." 

"Are  you  not  absolute  master  everywhere?"  ex 
claimed  Tallien,  angrily.  "  When  I  sayjw,  I  mean  the 
Montague" 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  403 

"No,"  rejoined  Robespierre,  "it  is  just  there  that 
I  find  most  traitors." 

"Name  them,"  cried  Barras.  "We  have  heard  that 
you  have  a  list.  Show  it  to  us." 

"  Here  it  is,"  said  Robespierre,  drawing  a  paper 
out  of  his  pocket. 

"  Let  it  be  torn  now  without  reading  it,"  hastened 
to  say  Freron.  "  We  are  all  too  good  republicans  to 
suspect  one  another.  Let  us  swear  to  suppress  the 
guillotine ! " 

"  No,"  replied  Robespierre.  "  Since  the  paper  has 
been  called  for,  it  must  be  read,  and  read  aloud."  And 
he  handed  it  over  to  Barras. 

The  first  name  on  the  death-list  was  Tallien's  ;  then 
came  Barras  himself,  Freron,  and  others.  There  was 
in  this  action  of  Robespierre  an  audacity  of  frankness 
which  was  almost  sublime,  and  which  struck  them 
dumb  with  astonishment.  A  dead  silence  ensued — 
the  silence  of  stupor.  Tallien  was  the  first  to  break 
it.  "  Since  you  have  shown  us  our  names,"  he  said, 
with  deliberate  and  marked  emphasis,  "you  mean  to 
efface  them,  because  you  believe  that  union  would  be 
strength.  You  invite  us,  I  suppose,  to  reconciliation 
and  peace,  and  not  to  dissension  and  mortal  combat. 
Therefore,  let  us  have  your  programme ;  and  let  us 
see  if  we  can  accept  it." 

Robespierre's  answer  was  a  long  speech  on  the  criti 
cal  state  of  affairs,  and  a  proposition  to  take  Tallien 
and  his  friends  into  confidence,  if  they  would  unite 
with  him  in  effecting  the  proscription  of  his  enemies. 
Tallien  thought  the  moment  favorable  to  let  out  what 
he  had  most  at  heart,  and  begged  the  liberty  of  the 
citoyenne  Fontenay,  born  Theresa  Cabarrus. 

"Never!   Never!"  was  the  reply.     "For  her  you 


404  A  UBER  T  D  USA  YE  T. 

betrayed  the  republic  at  Bordeaux.     She  leads  you 
like  a  child." 

"  Ha!  Ha!  is  it  so?  Know  then  that  the  citoyenne 
Fontenay  is  my  wife,  and  I  will  have  her  set  free  be 
fore  the  sun  goes  down  twice.  If  you  must  have 
blood,  take  our  heads,"  shouted  Tallien,  breaking 
away  from  the  group.  He  had  become  desperate. 
When  he  reached  his  home  he  was  in  a  state  of  mind 
to  dare  all  that  man  can  dare.  He  certainly  needed 
no  stimulant,  and  yet  he  found  a  powerful  one  in  a 
note  which  was  handed  to  him,  and  which  ran  thus : 

AT  LA  FORCE,  7th  thermidor. 
THE  citoyenne  FONTENAY  TO  THE  citoyen  TALLIEN. 
The  administrator  of  police  has  just  been  here.     He  came 
to  inform  me  that  to-morrow  I  am  to  be  tried  ;  that  is,  car 
ried  to  the  scaffold.     This  is  very  little  in  harmony  with  the 
dream  which  I  had  last  night.    Robespierre  existed  no  longer, 
and  the  prisons  were  open.     But  thanks  to  your  arrant  cow 
ardice,  there  will  soon  be  left  in  France  nobody  capable  of 
realizing  it. 

Tallien  wrote  back  to  her:  "  Be  as  prudent  as  I  am 
courageous.  Pray,  keep  a  cool  head  on  your  shoul 
ders." 

Robespierre  had  never  been  known  to  act  from  im 
pulse.  It  is  probable,  therefore,  that  when  he  showed 
his  death  list  to  Tallien  and  Barras,  he  had  calcu 
lated  that  they  would  attribute  his  frankness  to  the 
security  which  he  felt  in  the  possession  of  resistless 
power,  and  that  they  would  be  intimidated  into  a 
reconciliation  and  submission,  which  they  would  be 
lieve  him  capable  of  accepting  with  the  same  frank 
ness  he  had  shown  in  braving  them.  But  he  com 
mitted  a  fatal  error,  if  these  were  his  motives.  He 
had  staked  too  much  on  one  card  ;  the  game  was  too 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


405 


high ;  the  losers  would  inevitably  have  to  pay  in  the 
end  with  their  heads.  He  forgot  that  he  was  too  well 
known  to  be  trusted  by  his  adversaries  as  to  any  pro 
posed  compact.  He  had  shown  them  that  the  contest 
could  not  be  safely  prolonged.  Time  was  precious, 
and  the  most  was  to  be  made  of  it.  Hence,  his  op 
ponents  resolved  that  the  next  two  days  should  de 
termine  which  side  should  be  the  loser,  or  the  gainer. 
There  is  a  secret  instinct  which  tells  us  that,  when 
men  have  to  put  their  fate  on  the  cast  of  a  die,  it  is  the 
boldest  hand  which  shakes  the  box  that  has  the  best 
chance  to  win.  That  night,  the  next  day,  and  the 
following  night,  every  member  of  the  Convention, 
known  or  supposed  to  be  hostile  to  Robespierre,  was 
seen  and  tampered  with,  and  when  dawn  broke  on  the 
Qth  thermidor,  everything  was  ready  for  the  onslaught. 
The  plan  had  been  digested,  discussed,  and  adopted. 
Every  one  was  to  be  at  his  post  and  knew  what  he 
had  to  do. 

On  that  great  historical  day,  early  in  the  morning, 
there  seemed  to  be  something  fatidical  in  the  air. 
Excited  groups  had  assembled  in  the  streets,  and 
crowds  had  gathered  in  the  public  places.  There  was 
a  general  agitation  without  any  known  cause.  Some 
event  was  expected  to  happen,  but  why,  and  where, 
and  what  was  it  ?  These  questions  were  not  answered, 
and  yet  everybody  looked  and  acted  as  if  the  answer 
would  not  long  be  deferred.  In  the  meantime,  the 
hour  for  the  meeting  of  the  Convention  had  come. 
That  body  had  rarely  been  so  well  attended  by  its 
members.  An  atmosphere  of  grim  solemnity  seemed 
to  have  penetrated  into  the  hall  of  their  deliberations 
and  to  have  enveloped  the  whole  assembly.  It  was 
observed  that  many  of  them  looked  pale  and  jaded. 


406  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

Robespierre  was  the  first  to  ascend  the  tribune.  He 
described  his  own  services  and  zeal  for  the  State,  and 
declared  that  he  had  the  intention  to  propose  meas 
ures  which  alone  could  save  the  country.  He  said  : 
"I  see  in  many  no  inclination  to  be  guided  by  fixed 
principles,  no  disposition  to  follow  the  path  of  justice, 
which  the  enemies  of  the  republic  have  tried  to  ob 
struct.  If  I  am  to  conceal  these  truths,  I  prefer  that 
the  cup  of  hemlock  be  brought  to  me.  My  reason,  if 
not  my  heart,  is  on  the  eve  of  having  doubts  on  the 
possible  existence  of  that  virtuous  republic  of  which 
I  had  designed  the  plan  myself."  "  You  are  the  Cat 
iline  of  the  republic,"  shouted  Tallien.  "  Down  with 
the  tyrant !  "  cried  many  voices.  "  It  is  to  men  who 
are  pure,  and  not  to  brigands,  that  I  address  myself," 
continued  Robespierre.  He  was  interrupted  by  in 
creasing  vociferations.  Gathering  all  his  strength, 
and  clinging  to  the  tribune,  from  which  his  adversaries 
struggled  to  pull  him  notwithstanding  the  opposition 
of  his  partisans,  he  turned  to  the  president  of  the 
Assembly,  and  said  in  a  loud  tone  :  "  For  the  last 
time,  president  of  assassins,  I  demand  to  be  heard." 
"No!  no!"  shouted  numerous  voices,  "he  shall  not 
be  heard ;  the  traitor  and  tyrant  never  allowed  any 
one  of  his  adversaries  to  be  heard.  Measure  for  meas 
ure."  Robespierre  continued  his  efforts  to  speak, 
until  he  was  completely  exhausted,  and  until  nothing 
but  a  gurgling  sound  or  death-rattle  issued  from  his 
throat.  "  It  is  the  blood  of  Danton  which  chokes 
you,"  shouted  a  member.  "  Ha !  is  it  Danton  you 
wish  to  avenge  ?  "  gasped  Robespierre.  "  Down  with 
the  tyrant,  down  with  the  would-be  dictator ! "  was 
heard  on  all  sides.  Tallien  rushed  toward  the  trib 
une,  and,  brandishing  Theresa's  small  Spanish  weapon 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


407 


cried  :  "  I  have  armed  myself  with  this  dagger  to 
pierce  the  heart  of  this  Cromwell,  if  the  Convention 
does  not  decree  his  arrest."  The  Assembly  tumultu- 
ously  voted  that  decree,  accompanied  with  the  shouts 
of,  "Long  live  the  republic!"  "The  republic!" 
echoed  Robespierre,  rousing  himself,  "  it  is  lost,  for 
brigands  triumph."  He,  with  his  brother,  with  St. 
Just  and  several  others  who  had  been  comprehended 
in  the  same  order  of  arrest,  were  conducted  as  pris 
oners  to  the  city  hall.  He  was  rescued,  however,  by 
General  Henriot,  the  commander-in-chief  of  the  na 
tional  guards  of  Paris,  and  advised  by  St.  Just  and 
others  to  march  against  the  Convention  and  disperse 
them.  He  replied:  "Such  a  step  would  be  the  pro 
ceeding  of  a  tyrant.  I  will  not  expose  myself  to  shed 
the  blood  of  my  fellow-citizens  to  avenge  my  own 
cause.  My  duty,  after  all,  is  to  conform  to  the  will 
of  the  sovereign  people.  They  are  free  to  defend  or 
to  abandon  me.  Should  the  last  be  the  case,  I  shall 
know  how  to  die  like  Tiberius  Gracchus." 

In  public  affairs,  the  greatest  rogues  invariably  talk 
the  loudest  about  virtue,  and  the  most  abominable 
tyrants,  about  liberty  and  popular  sovereignty.  On 
this  occasion,  the  monstrous  hypocrisy  of  Robespierre 
overleaped  the  mark  and  caused  his  ruin.  He  waited, 
and  refused  to  act,  no  doubt  to  assume  the  position 
of  one  saved  by  the  people,  and  not  by  his  own  exer 
tions.  It  would  have  been  better  and  more  convenient 
for  him  to  have  the  Convention  butchered  by  others 
whilst  he  folded  his  arms,  and  to  be  proclaimed  dicta 
tor,  notwithstanding  his  protest,  and  by  the  force  of 
circumstances.  But  his  partisans,  being  deserted  by 
their  chief,  who  gave  no  order,  vacillated,  hesitated, 
disagreed,  and  knew  not  what  to  do.  In  supreme 


4o8  *  UBEB  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

crises,  to  -hesitate  is  to  be  lost.  It  is  what  happened 
in  this  emergency.  The  golden  opportunity  presented 
itself  to  Robespierre,  and  he  did  not  clutch  it  with  a 
firm  and  resolute  hand.  It  gave  breathing-time  to 
his  enemies  in  the  Convention.  They  acted  with  the 
vigor  which  had  been  lacking  in  him,  and  history  re 
lates  the  rest.  But  let  it  be  remarked  that  Tallien 
was  a  true  prophet  when  he  said  to  Robespierre : 
"  Your  republic  will  perish  by  a  woman."  It  was 
Theresa  Cabarrus.  Robespierre  was  no  less  prophetic 
when  he  declared  that  the  republic — no  matter  what 
republic  it  was,  his,  or  that  of  any  other  man — would 
also  be  destroyed  by  the  same  instrument ;  for,  by  a 
woman  the  republic  of  Tallien  and  Barras  perished  in 
its  turn.  Its  death-warrant  was  signed  when  Barras, 
the  president  of  the  French  Directory,  issued,  under 
the  influence  of  a  woman,  that  commission  which  gave 
to  her  young  husband  the  command  of  the  army  of 
Italy.  That  woman  was  Josephine  Beauharnais. 

But  that  event  was  yet  in  the  future.  For  the  pres 
ent,  Tallien  and  Barras  had  triumphed,  and  Theresa 
Cabarrus  became  again  the  idol  of  the  Parisian  society. 
The  "reign  of  terror"  was  over,  and  the  reign  of  pleas 
ure  began.  People  were  tired  of  the  Spartan  black 
broth  in  public,  when  there  was  no  real  sobriety  in 
private,  and  of  the  ridiculous  affectation  of  Roman 
virtue,  when  there  was  not  a  particle  of  virtue  of  any 
kind.  Life  is  no  longer  in  danger ;  let  us  make  the 
most  of  it,  was  the  general  feeling,  and  the  whole  pop 
ulation  fell  to  eating,  drinking,  and  dancing  with  a 
sort  of  rage.  "  Sullen  despair  was  gone,"  says  a  writer, 
"  and  now  it  was  :  let  us  seek  new  ways  of  killing  time 
and  spending  money,  and  accordingly,  in  this  reac 
tion,  all  Paris  danced — danced  as  if  it  never  could 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  409 

make  up  for  the  lost  time;  danced  over  graves; 
danced  with  crape  on  the  sleeve  at  the  '  ball  of  the 
victims]  as  it  was  called,  where  the  ground  for  ad 
mission  was  the  loss  of  a  relative  by  the  guillotine. 
From  the  highest  to  the  lowest,  every  man,  woman,  and 
child  seemed  seized  with  a  dancing  mania — a  lucra 
tive  time  for  fiddlers,  one  would  suppose,  when  there 
were  no  fewer  than  six  hundred  and  forty-four  places 
for  dancing  in  Paris.  And  what  dancing !  No  longer 
stately  minuets,  country-dances,  or  quadrilles,  but  the 
German  waltz,  in  which  women,  far  too  scantily  clad 
for  former  notions  of  decency,  were  whirled  about  in 
their  partners'  arms  till  they  almost  dropped  from  ex 
haustion."  License  was  carried  to  its  extremest  limit, 
and  its  exigencies  beggared  the  fertility  of  invention 
of  the  most  depraved  imagination,  amidst  the  satur 
nalia  of  this  saltatory  insanity. 

Thus  the  republic  had  become  a  bacchanalian  revel, 
a  carnival  of  bedlamites,  and  a  school  for  dancing, 
which  was  soon  to  be  changed  into  a  military  one 
under  the  rod  of  an  imperial  despotism. 

18 


CHAPTER  XXVII. 

THE   LEADERS   OF   MEN    AND   THEIR   WEARINESS    OF 
SPIRIT. 

I  NOW  proceed  to  relate  the  impressions  which 
some  of  the  events  I  have  described  had  produced  in 
America.  Washington  was  on  a  visit  to  Mount  Ver- 
non,  when  he  received  a  letter  from  Gouverneur  Mor 
ris,  dated  on  the  23d  of  October,  1792,  which  awoke 
his  benevolent  sympathy  in  favor  of  the  unfortunate 
Louis  XVI.,  the  ancient  friend  and  ally  of  America. 
"  You  will  have  seen,"  wrote  Morris,  "  that  the  King 
is  accused  of  high  crimes  and  misdemeanors,  but  I 
verily  believe  that  he  wished  sincerely  for  his  nation 
the  enjoyment  of  the  utmost  degree  of  liberty,  which 
their  situation  and  circumstances  will  permit.  He 
wished  for  a  good  constitution,  but,  unhappily,  he  had 
not  the  means  to  obtain  it,  or  if  he  had,  he  was 
thwarted  by  those  about  him.  What  may  be  his  fate 
God  only  knows,  but  history  informs  us  that  the  pas 
sage  of  dethroned  monarchs  is  short  from  the  prison 
to  the  grave." 

In  the  meantime,  the  arms  of  revolutionary  France 
were  triumphant.  "  Towns  fall  before  them  without 
a  blow,"  wrote  Gouverneur  Morris,  "and  the  declara 
tion  of  rights  produces  an  effect  equal  at  least  to  the 
trumpets  of  Joshua.  But  I  do  not  draw  a  favorable 
augury  from  this  success.  We  must  observe  the  civil, 
moral,  religious,  and  political  institutions  of  a  coun- 
(410) 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


411 


try.  These  have  a  steady  and  lasting  effect,  and 
these  only.  Since  I  have  been  here,  I  have  seen  the 
worship  of  many  idols,  but  little  of  the  true  God.  I 
have  seen  many  of  those  idols  broken,  and  some  of 
them  beaten  to  the  dust.  I  have  seen  the  late  con 
stitution,  in  one  short  year,  admired  as  a  stupendous 
monument  of  human  wisdom,  and  ridiculed  as  an 
egregious  production  of  folly  and  vice.  I  wish  much, 
very  much,  the  happiness  of  this  inconstant  people. 
I  love  them.  I  feel  grateful  for  their  efforts  in  our 
cause,  and  I  consider  the  establishment  of  a  good 
constitution  here,  as  the  principal  means,  under  divine 
Providence,  of  extending  the  blessings  of  freedom  to 
the  many  millions  of  my  fellow-men  who  groan  in 
bondage  on  the  continent  of  Europe.  But  I  do  not 
greatly  indulge  the  flattering  illusions  of  hope,  be 
cause  I  do  not  yet  perceive  that  reformation  of  morals 
without  which  liberty  is  but  an  empty  sound." 

Washington  shared  all  the  forebodings  of  Morris, 
and  had  even  apprehensions  as  to  the  state  of  affairs 
at  home.  He  thought  there  was  too  great  a  disposi 
tion  to  run  fast  and  to  innovate.  He  said  to  Jeffer 
son  :  "  When  men  put  a  machine  into  motion,  it  is 
impossible  for  them  to  stop  it  exactly  where  they 
would  choose,  or  to  say  where  it  will  stop.  The 
constitution  we  have  is  an  excellent  one,  if  we  can 
keep  it  where  it  is."  *  How  prophetic  ! 

The  mills  of  a  revolution  work  fast.  The  mon 
archy,  the  King,  the  Queen,  the  nobility,  the  clergy 
of  France,  and  Heaven  knows  what  else,  had  been 
ground  into  powder,  and  the  force  that  kept  the 
wheels  still  a-going  was  not  hydrological  power,  but 


*  Irving's  "  Life  of  Washington,"  p.  170,  vol.  v. 


4I2  A  UBERT  DUBA  YET. 

constant  streams  of  a  more  precious  liquid,  which 
flowed  as  abundantly  as  water. 

"  When  will  savages  be  satisfied  with  blood  ?  "  ex 
claimed  John  Adams,  when  he  heard  of  the  death  of 
Marie  Antoinette.* 

Not  so  with  Jefferson,  who,  from  Monticello,  wrote 
to  his  friend,  Tenck  Coxe,  in  Paris :  "  Your  letters 
give  a  comfortable  view  of  French  affairs,  and  later 
events  seem  to  confirm  it.  Over  the  Foreign  Powers 
I  am  confident  that  they  will  triumph  ultimately,  and 
I  can  not  but  hope  that  that  triumph,  and  the  con 
sequent  disgrace  of  the  invading  tyrants,  is  destined, 
in  the  order  of  events,  to  kindle  the  wrath  of  Europe 
against  those  who  have  dared  to  embroil  them  in  such 
wickedness,  and  to  bring  at  length,  kings,  nobles,  and 
priests  to  the  scaffolds  which  they  have  been  so  long 
deluging  with  human  blood.  I  am  still  warm  when 
ever  I  think  of  these  scoundrels,  though  I  do  it  as 
seldom  as  I  can,  preferring  infinitely  to  contemplate 
the  tranquil  growth  of  my  lucern  and  potatoes.  I 
have  so  completely  withdrawn  myself  from  these 
spectacles  of  misrule  and  usurpation,  that  I  do  not 
take  a  single  newspaper,  nor  read  one  in  a  month  ; 
and  I  feel  myself  infinitely  the  happier  for  it."  f 

How  painful  must  have  been  the  sacrifice  made  by 
the  retired  philosopher,  when,  solely  for  the  good  of 
his  fellow-citizens,  and  not  for  the  gratification  of  any 
ambitious  aspirations,  he  allowed  himself  to  be  torn 
away  from  the  "  contemplation  of  the  tranquil  growth 
of  his  lucern  and  potatoes,"  to  become  during  eight 
years  President  of  the  United  States ! 


*  John  Adams  to  his  wife. 

t  Jefferson's  Works,  vol.  iv.,  p.  104. 


A  USER T  D UBA  YET.  413 

But  we  must  return  to  General  Aubert  Dubayet. 
After  the  terrible  events  which  had  brought  on  the 
destruction  of  the  Princess  de  Lamballe,  and  of  the 
King  and  Queen,  he  had  missed  Tintin  Calandro  and 
looked  round  for  him  in  vain ;  nobody  had  been  able 
to  tell  him  anything  about  the  object  of  his  inquiries. 
At  last,  when  the  most  diligent  search  had  been  fruit 
less,  he  accidentally  found  him  in  a  lunatic  asylum. 
Dubayet,  taking  charge  of  the  poor  maniac,  and 
thinking  that  a  change  of  scene  would  benefit  him, 
had  dispatched  him  to  Louisiana  with  a  letter  for 
Labbe,  Viel,  his  old  preceptor,  who  kept  a  school  in 
the  county  of  Opelousas,  and  officiated  as  the  priest 
to  whose  spiritual  care  had  been  committed  that  dis 
tant  settlement,  where,  in  those  days,  there  were  al 
most  as  many  Indians  as  whites  and  blacks.  In  that 
wilderness  Tintin  Calandro  had  ever  since  remained, 
after  having  partly  recovered  his  reason,  until,  on  the 
departure  of  L'abbe  Viel  for  France,  he  was,  on  the 
recommendation  of  that  ecclesiastic,  appointed  by  the 
bishop  of  New  Orleans  guardian  and  sexton  of  the 
St.  Louis  Cemetery,  in  that  city,  in  the  discharge  of 
which  functions  he  has  been  exhibited  in  a  preceding 
work — "  Fernando  de  Lemos." 

General  Dubayet  had  been  glad  to  escape  the  ter 
rific  scenes  enacted  in  Paris  in  1793,  in  consequence 
of  his  having  been  intrusted  at  that  time  with  the  de 
fense  of  Mayence,  on  the  Rhine.  But,  after  having 
shown  great  courage  and  skill,  he  had  been  obliged  to 
surrender.  He  was  arrested,  accused  of  treason,  in 
capacity,  or  cowardice ;  for  the  patriots  would  not  ad 
mit  that  Frenchmen  could  be  beaten  fairly.  He  was, 
however,  honorably  acquitted.  Not  satisfied  with 
that,  he  presented  himself  before  the  Convention, 


414  ^  UBERT  DUBA  YET. 

begged  to  be  heard,  and  exonerated  himself  and  his 
troops  so  completely  from  all  blame,  that  he  received 
a  fraternal  embrace  from  the  president  of  that  body 
by  virtue  of  a  formal  decree.  After  having  been 
comforted  with  this  theatrical  exhibition  of  good-will 
and  confidence,  he  was  sent  to  La  Vendee,  at  the  head 
of  the  garrison  which  had  defended  Mayence  in  vain. 
Fortune  did  not  smile  on  him  at  first,  for  at  Clisson 
he  met  the  terrible  Cathelineau,  who  kept  the  word 
he  had  pledged  to  the  Jacobins  when  he  defied  them 
and  Marat  in  their  den,  and  who,  on  this  occasion, 
crushed  the  forces  of  the  republic,  capturing  eight 
hundred  men  with  all  the  artillery  and  baggage. 
Cathelineau,  on  account  of  his  piety,  had  been  sur- 
named  by  the  peasants  "  The  Saint  of  Anjou  " — a 
province  in  which  most  of  his  exploits  had  been  per 
formed. 

After  having  repaired  his  losses,  General  Dubayet 
was  confronting  another  army  of  Vendeans,  when  he 
received  a  dispatch  removing  him  from  command  on 
the  eve  of  a  battle  for  which  all  his  preparations  had 
been  made.  Quietly  putting  the  dispatch  in  his 
pocket,  to  be  considered  and  attended  to  in  due  time, 
he  fought  and  won  the  battle.  After  a  complete  vic 
tory  he  departed  for  Paris.  His  laurels  did  not  pre 
vent  him  from  being  arrested  by  order  of  the  Conven 
tion.  Tried  a  second  time,  he  was  again  acquitted, 
and  returned  to  La  Vendee  where,  under  General 
Hoche,  he  contributed  to  the  pacification  of  the 
province  and  behaved  with  humanity  toward  the  in 
surgents,  who  were  called  brigands,  and  had  been 
treated  as  such  by  their  adversaries  in  that  dreadful 
civil  war.  Promoted  to  the  grade  of  General  of  di 
vision,  he  was  appointed  commander-in-chief  with  his 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET.  4!  5 

headquarters  at  Cherbourg.  He  acted  with  great 
energy,  re-established  communication  between  Le 
Mans,  Alengon,  Angers,  and  La  F15che,  and  several 
times  obtained  considerable  advantages  over  the  ene 
mies  of  the  republic.  At  one  time,  he  was  preparing 
to  -march  on  Paris  to  put  down  an  insurrection  against 
the  National  Convention,  when  he  heard  of  the  tri 
umph  of  that  body.  Constitutions  were  fast  succeed 
ing  constitutions,  to  gratify  the  impatient  fickleness 
of  the  people,  who  were  not  long  satisfied  with  what 
had  pleased  them  at  first.  A  new  constitution  having 
been  adopted  in  1795,  Aubert  Dubayet  was  appoint 
ed  under  it  minister  of  war. 

One  day,  when  he  was  complaining  to  Gouverneur 
Morris  of  the  vexations  which  besieged  him,  the 
American  minister  said  :  "  Be  comforted,  my  friend. 
If  our  noble  and  great  Washington  is  constantly  at 
tacked  by  censorious  tongues  and  pens  which  are  ever 
ready  to  cavil  at  every  measure  of  his  administration, 
why  should  you  be  fretted  by  unjust  opposition  on 
the  part  of  your  countrymen?  It  is  mournfully  sug 
gestive  of  the  soreness  and  weariness  of  heart  with 
which  he  sees  his  conscientious  policy  misunderstood, 
or  misrepresented,  and  himself  becoming  an  object 
of  party  hostility,  when,  for  the  first  time  perhaps  in 
his  life,  he  is  betrayed  into  expressions  of  bitter  irony  ; 
for  this  is  what  he  writes  to  me :  '  The  affairs  of  this 
country  can  not  go  wrong ;  there  are  so  many  watch 
ful  guardians  of  them,  and  such  infallible  guides,  that 
no  one  is  at  a  loss  for  a  director  at  every  turn.'  " 

Washington's  weariness  of  spirit  went  on  increas 
ing.  Not  only  had  he  to  contend  with  calumnies  and 
factious  opposition,  but  also  with  actual  insurrections, 
which  struck  him  with  horror  at  the  bare  idea  of 


4 16  A  UBERT  DUBA  YET. 

shedding  the  blood  of  his  countrymen  in  a  civil  war. 
Witnessing  the  last  days  of  the  expiring  Roman  re 
public,  and  determined  not  to  survive  the  loss  of  lib 
erty,  Brutus,  when  putting  an  end  to  his  life,  exclaim 
ed  :  "  O  virtue,  thou  art  but  a  name !  "  Washington, 
in  the  golden  age  of  the  American  republic  which  he 
had  founded,  was  so  disgusted  with  the  turbulence  of 
party,  with  the  wickedness  of  human  passions,  with 
the  want  of  truth  and  patriotism  conspicuous  around 
him,  and  with  the  difficulties  which  selfish  interests 
and  corruption  threw  in  the  way  of  one  who  would 
undeviatingly  lead  his  country  to  respectability, 
wealth,  and  happiness,  that  he  exclaimed  :  "  The  post 
of  honor  is  a  private  station."  Such  were  the  con 
clusions  of  Brutus  and  Washington,  although  sepa 
rated  by  an  interval  of  almost  two  thousand  years ! 
If  such  is  to  be  the  bitter  experience  of  the  best  men 
who  engage  in  political  struggles,  what  matters  it 
under  what  form  of  government  we  sweat  and  groan, 
draw  water  and  hew  wood,  during  our  brief  existence  ! 
Marat  had  died  by  the  dagger  of  Charlotte  Corday, 
Robespierre  on  the  scaffold,  and  the  "  reign  of  terror  " 
was  over.  Aubert  Dubayet  lent  himself  to  the  hope 
that  the  new  republic  of  France  had  seen  its  darkest 
days  and  passed  its  most  dangerous  ordeal.  When 
ever  he  could  steal  an  hour  from  the  time  required 
for  the  fulfilment  of  his  arduous  duties  as  sec 
retary  of  war,  he  would  call  on  his  friend,  Gouver- 
neur  Morris,  with  whom  he  loved  to  talk  of  the 
destinies  of  France  and  America,  which  he  con 
sidered  as  bound  together  by  the  strong  ties  of 
past  services,  of  similar  institutions,  and  reciprocal 
attachment  and  esteem.  One  day,  he  found  Morris 
overwhelmed  with  mortification  and  shame.  He  but 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET. 

too  soon  ascertained  the  cause  of  such  feelings,  for 
the  American  minister  showed  him  a  copy  of  a  dis 
patch  which  had  been  found  on  board  of  a  French 
privateer  captured  by  a  British  frigate,  and  which  had 
been  forwarded  to  the  Cabinet  of  St.  James.  Lord 
Grenville  had  transmitted  the  original  to  Mr.  Ham 
mond,  the  British  minister  at  Philadelphia,  through 
whose  hands  it  had  reached  Washington's.  That  dis 
patch  was  from  Fauchet,  the  French  minister  to  the 
United  States,  and  addressed  to  his  Government.  It 
strongly  implicated  the  integrity  of  Randolph,  who 
was  then  secretary  of  state.  After  relating  the  break 
ing  out  of  the  Western,  or  whisky  insurrection,  as  it 
was  called,  and  the  proclamation  of  Washington  on 
that  event,  Fauchet  went  on  saying:* 

"  Two  or  three  days  before  the  proclamation  was 
published,  and,  of  course,  before  the  Cabinet  had  re 
solved  on  the  measures  to  be  taken,  the  secretary  of 
state  came  to  my  house.  All  his  countenance  was 
grief.  He  requested  of  me  a  private  conversa 
tion.  '  It  is  all  over,'  he  said  to  me  :  '  a  civil  war  is 
about  to  ravage  our  unhappy  country.  Four  men, 
by  their  talents,  their  influence,  and  their  energy, 
may  save  it.  But,  debtors  of  English  merchants,  they 
will  be  deprived  of  their  liberty  if  they  take  the  smallest 
step.  Could  you  lend  them  instantaneously  funds  to 
shelter  them  from  English  prosecution?'  This  in 
quiry  astonished  me  much.  It  was  impossible  for  me 
to  give  a  satisfactory  answer.  You  know  my  want  of 
power  and  deficiency  in  pecuniary  means.  Thus,  with 
some  thousands  of  dollars,  the  republic  could  have 
decided  on  civil  war,  or  peace.  Thus  the  consciences 


*  Irving's  "  Life  of  Washington,"  p.  222,  vol.  v. 
1 8* 


41 8  *  UBERT  DUB  A  YE  T. 

of  the  pretended  patriots  of  America  have  already  their 
price.  What  will  be  the  old  age  of  this  Government, 
if  it  is  thus  already  decrepit  ?  " 

Aubcrt  Dubayet  dropped  the  paper  and  shed  tears. 
"Ah!"  said  Morris,  "well  may  you  weep  with  me 
over  such  revelations ;  and  how  much  more  will  you 
grieve,  when  I  tell  you  that,  publicly,  before  the  face 
of  the  whole  world,  in  the  councils  of  the  nation,  in 
the  daily  journals  of  the  country  for  which  he  has 
done  so  much,  Washington's  military  and  political 
character*  is  attacked  with  equal  violence,  and  it  is 
proclaimed  that  he  is  totally  destitute  of  merit,  either 
as  a  soldier  or  a  statesman.  He  is  charged  with 
having  violated  the  constitution  in  negotiating  a 
treaty  without  the  previous  advice  of  the  Senate,  and 
with  having  embraced  within  that  treaty  subjects  exclu 
sively  belonging  to  the  Legislature,  for  which  an  im 
peachment  is  publicly  suggested.  Nay,  more,  it  is  as 
serted  that  he  has  drawn  from  the  treasury,  for  his 
private  use,  more  than  the  salary  annexed  to  his 
office.  Thus,  in  broad  daylight,  Washington  is  ac 
cused  of  being  a  thief,  not  by  obscure  scribblers, 
slandering  him  from  the  dark  corners  where  they  are 
hidden,  but  by  conspicuous  leaders  who  are  backed 
by  a  powerful  and  numerous  party.  O  God  !  is  this 
the  beginning  of  our  republic  ?  If  it  is  born  in  cor 
ruption,  and  if  it  is  possible  to  publish  with  impunity 
in  the  midst  of  an  ungrateful,  or  at  least  indifferent, 
people,  that  we  have  a  Dick  Turpin  at  our  head,  what 
will  be  the  morals  of  our  successors  in  one  hundred 
years,  and  what  will  our  boasted  institutions  be 
worth?" 


*  Irving's  "  Life  of  Washington,"  p.  226,  vol.  v. 


A  UBERT  DUBA  YET. 

Washington  himself  was  amazed  at  the  wide-spread 
hostility  exhibited  against  him,  and  wrote  as  follows 
to  Jefferson : 

"  Truly,*  until  the  last  year  or  two,  I  had  no  con 
ception  that  parties  would,  or  even  could,  go  the 
length  I  have  been  witness  to ;  nor  did  I  believe  until 
lately,  that  it  was  within  -the  bounds  of  probability, 
hardly  within  those  of  possibility,  that,  whilst  I  was 
using  my  utmost  exertions  to  establish  a  national 
character  of  our  own,  independent,  as  far  as  our  obli 
gations  and  sense  of  justice  would  permit,  of  every 
nation  of  the  earth,  and  wished,  by  steering  a  steady 
course,  to  preserve  this  country  from  the  horrors  of  a 
desolating  war,  I  should  be  accused  of  being  the 
enemy  of  one  nation  (the  French)  and  subject  to  the 
influence  of  another  (the  English) ;  and,  to  prove  it, 
that  every  act  of  my  administration  would  be  tort 
ured,  and  the  grossest  and  most  insidious  misrepre 
sentations  of  them  made,  by  giving  one  side  only 
of  a  subject,  and  that,  too,  in  such  exaggerated  and 
indecent  terms  as  could  scarcely  be  applied  to  a  Nero, 
a  notorious  defaulter,  or  even  to  a  common  pickpocket. 
But  enough  of  this ;  I  have  already  gone  further  in 
the  expression  of  my  feelings  than  I  intended." 

This  letter  must  have  had  the  effect  of  producing  a 
twinge  in  Jefferson's  toe  ;  for  he  had  lately  written  to 
Monroe :  "  Republicanism  must  lie  on  its  oars,  resign 
the  vessel  to  its  pilot,f  and  themselves  to  what  course 
he  thinks  best  for  them."  Thus,  according  to  Jeffer 
son's  declaration,  the  best  thing  that  republicanism 
could  do  under  Washington's  administration  was  to 


*  Irving's  "  Life  of  Washington,"  p.  241,  vol.  v. 

t  General  Washington,  President  of  the  United  States. 


420  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

"  lie  on  its  oars,"  and  wait  for  better  times.  If  so, 
Washington  was  not  a  republican  ;  and  if  not,  he  was 
not  true  to  the  institutions  he  had  founded ;  and  if 
not  true,  then  he  was  a  perjured  hypocrite.  Could 
anything  more  disgraceful  be  intimated  against  him  ? 
It  is  needful,  indeed,  for  the  virtuous  and  the  good  in 
this  world,  particularly  those  who  aim  at  being  the 
benefactors  of  their  race,  to  keep  their  eyes  fixed  on 
Calvary.  The  awful  lesson  will  support  their  courage 
and  maintain  their  steadiness  of  purpose. 


CHAPTER   XXVIII. 

A  QUARREL,  AND  ALMOST  A  WAR,  BETWEEN  THE 
TWO  SISTER  REPUBLICS  —  DEATH  OF  AUBERT 
DUBAYET. 

MEANWHILE,  Monroe  had  succeeded  Morris,  as 
minister  plenipotentiary  of  the  United  States  in 
Paris,  and  the  latter  had  departed  from  that  city  for 
London.  This  was  a  painful  blow  to  Dubayet,  who 
was  warmly  attached  to  him.  He  needed  such  a 
friend,  for  whom  he  had  no  secret,  and  in  whom  he 
had  found  the  consolations  of  sincere  sympathy  and 
the  salutary  advice  of  experience  and  sound  judg 
ment,  on  more  than  one  occasion.  As  minister  of 
war  his  relations  had  become  unpleasant  with  Carnot, 
the  president  of  the  Committee  of  Public  Safety.  He 
therefore  resigned,  and  was  appointed  ambassador  to 
the  Ottoman  Porte  at  Constantinople.  He  departed 
on  the  26th  of  March,  1796,  taking  with  him  a  nu 
merous  suite  and  a  company  of  light  artillery  that 
was  to  engage  in  the  service  of  Turkey.  Before  his 
leaving  Paris,  he  had  read  with  much  satisfaction  a 
letter  written  by  Washington  to  Monroe,  and  in  which 
the  former  said  : 

"  My  conduct  in  public  and  in  private  life,  as  it 
relates  to  the  important  struggle  in  which  France  is 
engaged  against  England,  has  been  uniform  from  the 
beginning  of  it,  and  may  be  summed  up  in  a  few 

(421) 


422  A  UBER  T  D  USA  YE  T. 

words.  I  have  always  wished  well  to  the  French 
revolution ;  I  have  always  given  it  as  my  decided 
opinion,  that  no  nation  has  a  right  to  intermeddle 
in  the  national  concerns  of  another;  that  every  one 
had  a  right  to  form  and  adopt  whatever  government 
they  liked  best  to  live  under  themselves ;  and  that,  if 
this  country  could,  consistently  with  its  engagements, 
maintain  a  strict  neutrality,  and  thereby  preserve 
peace,  it  was  bound  to  do  so  by  motives  of  policy, 
interest,  and  every  other  consideration  that  ought  to 
actuate  a  people  situated  as  we  are,  already  deeply  in 
debt,  and  in  a  convalescent  state  from  the  struggle 
we  have  been  engaged  in  ourselves. 

"  On  these  principles  I  have  steadily  and  uniformly 
proceeded,  bidding  defiance  to  calumnies  calculated 
to  sow  the  seeds  of  discontent  in  the  French  nation, 
and  to  excite  their  belief  of  an  influence  possessed 
by  Great  Britain  in  the  councils  of  this  country,  than 
which  nothing  is  more  unfounded  and  injurious. "* 

So  thoroughly  sick  was  Washington  of  the  atmos 
phere  in  which  he  lived,  and  so  disgusted  was  he  with 
being  at  the  head  of  the  great  republic  he  had  founded 
for  the  happiness  of  others,  if  not  for  his  own,  that  he 
began  to  count  the  days  and  hours  that  would  inter 
vene  between  his  term  of  office  and  his  retirement, 
for  he  had  refused  to  serve  more  than  two  constitu 
tional  terms  in  his  exalted  office.  He  wrote  to  his 
old  fellow-soldier  and  political  coadjutor,  Henry 
Knox  :  "  To  the  wearied  traveler  who  sees  a  resting- 
place,  and  is  bending  his  body  to  lean  thereon,  I  now 
compare  myself;  but  to  be  suffered  to  do  this  in 
peace,  is  too  much  to  be  endured  by  some.  To  mis- 


*  Washington's  Writings,  vol.  xi.,  p.  164. 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  42  3 

represent  my  motives,  to  reprobate  my  politics,  and 
to  weaken  the  confidence  which  has  been  reposed  in 
my  administration,  are  objects  which  can  not  be  re 
linquished  by  those  who  will  be  satisfied  with  noth 
ing  short  of  a  change  in  our  political  system." 

How  mournful  is  such  language  from  such  a  man ! 
What  a  deep  sigh  of  discouragement  is  here  breathed 
by  the  wounded  spirit  within  ! 

Poor  Dubayet !  He  himself  had  become  the  vic 
tim  of  a  sombre  melancholy  which  he  could  not 
overcome,  and,  on  the  day  before  he  departed,  he 
overheard  a  dialogue  between  two  boyish  ragamuffins 
in  the  streets  of  Paris,  which  ought  to  have  excited 
hir  mirth,  but  which,  strange  to  say,  increased  the 
weight  of  the  load  oppressing  his  heart.  It  seemed 
to  be  such  a  mockery' of  what  had  been  the  idols  of 
his  youth,  at  least  in  theory,  and  the  objects  of  his 
generous  hopes ! 

"  Tom,"  said  Nat,  "  what  is  that  republic  of  which 
people  talk  so  much?" 

Tom.  "  Fool !  Don't  you  know  ?  It  is  wild  Lucy, 
the  circus  girl,  whom  Robespierre  promenaded 
through  the  streets  with  a  red  cap  on  her  head,  a 
red  flag  in  her  hand,  and  whom  he  called  the  mother 
of  reason.  As  you  see,  the  republic  is  no  great 
thing." 

Nat.  "  That  was  not  the  name.  It  was  the  god 
dess  of  reason." 

Tom.     "  What  is  the  goddess  of  reason  ?  " 

Nat.     "  I  don't  know." 

Tom.  "  Then  don't  talk  nonsense.  I  say  it  was 
the  mother  of  reason." 

Nat.  "  Very  well.  I  don't  care.  But  what  is 
liberty?" 


424 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


Tom.  "  It  is,  that  we  can  do  what  we  please  with 
out  being  whipped  by  papa  and  mamma." 

Nat.  "Hurrah  for  liberty!  But  what  signifies 
equality?" 

Tom.  "  It  signifies,  that  we  can  break,  when  we 
choose,  into  old  Mathew's  orchard,  and  that  you  have 
the  right  to  steal  as  many  of  his  apples  as  I  can,  al 
though  you  are  not  as  big  and  as  smart  as  I  am." 

Nat.  "  Hurrah  for  equality!  But  what  is  general 
fraternity?" 

Tom.  "  What  a  goose  you  are !  It  is  that  you  and 
I  are  brothers." 

Nat.  "  How  can  that  be,  when  our  fathers  and 
mothers  are  not  the  same?  " 

Tom.  "  That  is  their  fault,  and  their  noses  ought 
to  be  tweaked  for  such  a  mistake.  No  matter,  we  are 
brothers,  although  they  don't  know  it.  The  republic 
says  so,  and  when  I  have  no  soup  at  home,  which 
often  happens,  I  will  go  and  eat  half  of  yours." 

Nat.     "  The  old  woman  won't  like  that." 

Tom.  "  If  she  don't,  aunt  Guillotine  will  settle 
it." 

Nat.  "  You  are  so  smart,  Tom,  that  I  will  ask  you 
one  more  question.  What  is  communism?" 

Tom.  "  Why  ! — a  thing  which  belongs  to  you  and 
me  equally.  For  instance,  I  have  an  empty  pipe; 
you  have  a  cent.  I  say  to  you,  buy  tobacco.  Good ! 
Give  it  to  me.  Excellent !  I  fill  my  pipe.  That's 
all." 

Nat.  (Looking  puzzled).  "  That's  all !  What  is 
my  share  in  it  ?  " 

Tom.  "  You  are  very  dull,  Nat.  Whilst  I  do  the 
smoking,  you  do  the  spitting.  Is  not  that  fair? 
That's  communism." 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  42  5 

This  time,  little  Nat  did  not  shout  any  hurrah. 
"  Well,"  said  Dubayet  to  himself,  as  he  left  these 
boys,  the  one  so  inquisitive,  and  the  other  so  wise, 
before  having  cut  their  eye  teeth,  "  I  have  seen  the 
birth  of  two  republics,  and  I  have  sad  doubts  about 
their  vitality  and  their  answering  the  purposes  for 
which  they  were  created.  I  am  curious  now  to  ex 
amine  the  most  absolute  despotism  existing  on  earth. 
Let  us  hasten,  then,  to  the  dominion  of  him  to  whose 
decree  of  death  the  followers  of  the  prophet  of  Islam 
unhesitatingly  bend  their  submissive  necks,  without 
one  thought  of  resistance." 

Aubert  Dubayet  was  treated  with  coldness  at  Con 
stantinople.  Almost  all  the  representatives  of  the 
Foreign  Powers  were  hostile  to  him.  The  envoy  of 
rebels  who  had  murdered  their  sovereign,  could  not 
expect  sympathy  in  any  country  whose  ruler  claimed 
to  exercise  his  functions  by  divine  right.  He  be 
haved,  however,  with  such  dignity  and  tact,  that  he 
soon  conciliated  favor  and  commanded  respect.  Hav 
ing  at  last  obtained  an  audience  from  the  Sultan,  he 
was  received  by  that  Prince  with  all  the  marks  of  the 
highest  consideration. 

Meanwhile,  John  Adams  had  succeeded  Washing 
ton  as  President  of  the  United  States.  He  was  sus 
pected  of  being  still  more  in  favor  of  England  than 
Washington  was  supposed  to  be,  and  for  that  reason 
was  assailed  with  greater  violence.  In  the  treaty 
which  Washington  had  made  with  that  power,  the 
rights  of  the  people  had  been  represented  as  not  only 
neglected,  but  absolutely  sold.  It  was  asserted  that  it 
contained  no  reciprocal  advantages ;  that  the  benefits 
were  all  on  the  side  of  Great  Britain ;  and,  what 
seemed  to  have  more  weight  with  the  people  than  all 


4  >6  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

the  rest,  and  to  have  been  most  pressed  by  the  oppo 
sition  :  "  that  the  treaty  was  made  with  the  design  to 
oppress  the  French,  in  open  violation  of  a  treaty  al 
ready  existing  between  that  nation  and  the  United 
States,  and  contrary,  too,  to  every  principle  of  grati 
tude  and  sound  policy." 

Under  Adams,  the  relations  between  France  and 
the  United  States,  which  had  been  unpleasant  under 
his  predecessor,  became  gradually  so  embittered  that 
they  threatened  a  rupture.  Washington  had  de 
manded  the  recall  of  Genet  for  improper  conduct.  It 
had  been  granted ;  but  the  French  Government  had, 
in  its  turn,  insisted  on  the  recall  of  Gouverneur  Morris, 
whose  political  sympathies  were  considered  highly 
aristocratic.  That  request  had  been  complied  with. 
In  these  conjunctures,  the  text  of  the  obnoxious 
treaty  having  been  made  known,  such  was  the  irrita 
ble  condition  of  the  public  mind  that  the  whole  coun 
try  had  been  immediately  in  a  blaze.*  Not  only  the 
opposition  party,  but  also  a  portion  of  the  Cabinet, 
had  been  against  its  ratification.  The  attack  upon  it 
had  been  vehement  and  sustained ;  the  support  of  it, 
feeble  and  faltering.  The  assailants  had  seemed  de 
termined  to  carry  their  point  by  storm.  Immense 
meetings  to  oppose  the  ratification  had  been  held  in 
Boston,  New  York,  Philadelphia,  Baltimore,  and 
Charleston.  The  smaller  towns  throughout  the  Union 
had  followed  their  example.  In  New  York  a  copy  of 
the  treaty  had  been  burnt  before  the  Governor's 
house.  In  Philadelphia  it  was  suspended  on  a  pole, 
carried  about  the  streets,  and  finally  burnt  in  front  of 


*  Irving's  "  Life  of  Washington,"  p.  216,  vol.  v. 


A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  427 

the  British  minister's  house,  and  amidst  the  shoutings 
of  the  populace.* 

Monroe,  who  had  been  sent  to  France  as  envoy  in 
the  place  of  Gouverneur  Morris,  had  been  especially 
instructed  to  explain  the  views  and  conduct  of  the 
United  States  in  forming  the  treaty  with  England, 
and  had  been  amply  furnished  with  documents  for  the 
purpose.  From  his  own  letters,  however,  it  appears 
that  he  had  omitted  to  use  them.  Whether  this  arose 
from  undue  attachment  to  France,  a  feeling  common 
to  many,  or  from  mistaken  notions  of  American  in 
terests,  or  from  real  dislike  to  the  treaty,  the  result 
was  the  very  evil  which  he  had  been  instructed  to 
prevent.  The  French  Government  misconceived  the 
views  and  conduct  of  the  United  States ;  suspected 
their  policy  in  relation  to  Great  Britain ;  and,  when 
aware  that  the  House  of  Representatives  would  exe 
cute  the  treaty,  became  bitter  and  unjust  in  their  re 
sentment.  Symptoms  of  this  appeared  in  the  capture 
of  an  American  merchantman  by  a  French  privateer,  f 
Under  these  circumstances  Monroe  had  been  recalled, 
and  Charles  Cotesworth  Pinckney,  of  South  Carolina, 
chosen  to  succeed  him. 

Still  the  resentful  policy  of  the  French  had  con 
tinued,  because  the  American  Government  would  not 
join  them  in  a  war  against  England,  and  they  had 
issued  a  decree  ordering  the  seizure  of  British  property 
found  on  board  of  American  vessels,  and  of  provisions 
bound  for  England,  which  was  a  direct  violation  of 
their  treaty  with  the  United  States.  A  letter  which 
Washington  had  written  to  Gouverneur  Morris,  then 
in  London,  had  by  some  accident  fallen  into  the 


*  Irving's  "  Life  of  Washington,"  p.  216,  vol.  v.      t  Ib.,  p.  242 


428  A  USER  T  D UBA  YE  T. 

hands  of  the  French  Government,  and  had  produced 
much  irritation,  although  it  gave  very  little  cause  for 
it,  for  the  part  deemed  objectionable  was  as  follows : 

"  I  give  these  details,"  wrote  Washington  to  Mor 
ris,  "  as  evidences  of  the  impolitic  conduct  of  the 
British  Government  toward  these  United  States,  that 
it  may  be  seen  how  difficult  it  has  been  for  the  Execu 
tive,  under  such  an  accumulation  of  irritating  circum 
stances,  to  maintain  the  ground  of  neutrality  which 
had  been  taken  ;  and  at  a  time  when  the  remembrance 
of  the  aid  we  had  received  from  France  in  the  Revo 
lution  was  fresh  in  every  mind,  and  while  the  parti 
sans  of  that  country  were  continually  contrasting  the 
affections  of  that  people  with  the  unfriendly  disposition 
of  the  British  Government ;  and  that,  too,  while  their 
own  sufferings  during  the  war  with  the  latter,  had  not 
been  forgotten. 

"  It  is  well  known  that  peace  has  been  (to  borrow 
a  modern  phrase)  the  order  of  the  day  with  me,  since 
the  disturbances  in  Europe  first  commenced.  My 
policy  has  been,  and  will  continue  to  be,  while  I  have 
the  honor  to  remain  in  the  administration,  to  main 
tain  friendly  terms  with,  but  independent  of,  all  the 
nations  of  the  earth ;  to  share  in  the  broils  of  none ;  to 
fulfil  our  engagements ;  to  supply  the  wants  of,  and  be 
carriers  for,  them  all.  Nothing  short  of  self-respect, 
and  that  justice  which  is  essential  to  national  charac 
ter,  ought  to  involve  us  in  war." 

On  Monroe's  recall  the  French  Government  had 
gone  so  far  as  to  declare  that  it  would  not  receive 
any  new  minister  plenipotentiary  from  the  United 
States,  until  that  Power  should  have  redressed  the 
pretended  grievances  of  which  the  republic  had  com 
plained.  When  Monroe  had  his  audience  of  leave, 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  429 

Barras,  the  president  of  the  Directory,  addressed  him 
in  terms  which  conveyed  a  compliment  to  his  own 
nation,  but  an  insult  to  the  Americans. 

"The  French  republic  hopes,"  he  said  with  arro 
gance,  "  that  the  successors  of  Columbus,  of  Raleigh, 
and  of  Penn,  ever  proud  of  their  liberty,  will  never 
forget  that  they  owe  it  to  France.  In  their  wisdom 
they  will  weigh  the  magnanimous  benevolence  of  the 
French  people  with  the  artful  caresses  of  perfidious 
designers,  who  meditate  to  draw  them  back  to  their 
ancient  slavery.  Assure,  Mr.  Minister,  the  good 
American  people,  that,  like  them,  we  adore  liberty ; 
that  they  will  always  have  our  esteem,  and  that  they 
will  find  in  the  French  people  the  republican  gener 
osity  which  knows  how  to  accord  peace,  as  it  knows 
how  to  make  its  sovereignty  respected. 

"As  to  you,  Mr.  Minister  plenipotentiary,  you 
have  fought  for  the  principles,  you  have  known  the 
true  interests  of,  your  country.  Depart  with  our  re 
grets.  We  give  up  in  you  a  representative  of  Amer 
ica,  and  we  retain  the  remembrance  of  the  citizen 
whose  personal  qualities  honor  that  title." 

A  few  days  afterward,  Charles  Cotesworth  Pinckney 
presented  himself  as  the  successor  of  Monroe.  The 
French  Government  refused  to  receive  him ;  and,  as 
if  this  indignity  was  not  sufficient,  he  was  ordered  out 
of  the  republic.  The  next  step  was  to  proceed  to  the 
capture  of  American  vessels  by  French  cruisers.  On 
being  informed  of  these  outrages,  President  Adams 
convened  Congress.  In  his  opening  address  he  ad 
verted  particularly  to  the  language  of  Barras  in  Mon 
roe's  audience  of  leave. 

"The  speech  of  the  president  of  the  Directory," 
said  he,  "  discloses  sentiments  more  alarming  than  the 


430  *  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

refusal  of  a  minister,  because  more  dangerous  to  our 
independence  and  Union;  and,  at  the  same  time, 
studiously  marked  with  indignities  toward  the  Gov 
ernment  of  the  United  States.  It  evinces  a  dispo 
sition  to  separate  the  people  from  their  Government, 
to  persuade  them  that  they  have  different  affections, 
principles,  and  interests  from  those  of  their  fellow- 
citizens,  whom  they  themselves  have  chosen  to  man 
age  their  common  concerns,  and  thus  to  produce  dis 
sensions  fatal  to  our  peace.  Such  attempts  must  be 
repelled  with  a  decision  which  shall  convince  France 
and  the  world,  that  we  are  not  a  degraded  people, 
humiliated  under  a  colonial  spirit  of  fear  and  sense  of 
inferiority,  fitted  to  be  the  miserable  instrument  of 
foreign  influence,  and  regardless  of  national  honor, 
character,  and  interest," 

The  President  recommended  to  Congress  to  pro 
vide  for  effectual  measures  of  defense,  but  at  the 
same  time  announced  his  intention  to  institute  nego 
tiations  in  view  of  an  amicable  adjustment.  Wash 
ington,  though  retired  from  public  life,  strongly  ad 
vocated  the  course  pursued  by  Adams.  In  accord 
ance  with  the  policy  announced,  three  envoys  extra 
ordinary  were  appointed  to  the  French  republic,  viz. : 
Charles  Cotesworth  Pinckney,  John  Marshall,  and 
Ellridge  Gerry. 

On  the  arrival  of  the  ministers  in  Paris,  a  certain 
individual,  named  Bellarni,  called  on  Pinckney,  as  the 
secret  agent  of  Talleyrand,  minister  of  foreign  affairs, 
assuring  him  that  citizen  Talleyrand  had  the  highest 
esteem  for  the  citizens  of  the  United  States,  and  was 
most  anxious  for  their  reconciliation  with  France. 

"  I   am  very  happy,"  replied  Pinckney,  "  to  receive 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T.  43 1 

such  assurances,  and  so  will  my  colleagues  be.  We 
hope,  therefore,  soon  to  obtain  an  audience." 

"  No  doubt,"  continued  Bellarni.  "  But,  to  show 
your  good  dispositions,  it  would  be  proper  to  offer  a 
present  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dollars  to 
Mr.  de  Talleyrand,  for  the  use  of  the  Directory  ;  to 
agree  to  expunge  certain  offensive  passages  in  the 
speech  of  President  Adams  ;  and  to  pay  a  large  sum, 
in  the  shape  of  a  loan  from  America  to  France." 

The  baseness  and  the  impudence  of  these  propo 
sitions  were  startling;  they  were  indignantly  rejected. 
A  few  days  after,  besides  the  secret  agent,  an  intimate 
friend  of  Talleyrand  was  present  at  another  meeting. 
They  insisted  again  on  the  expunging  of  the  passages 
in  the  President's  message  to  Congress,  but  hinted 
that  they  might  give  that  up,  "  provided  they  had 
money — a  great  deal  of  money." 

At  a  third  conference,  the  same  personages  fixed  at 
six  millions  four  hundred  thousand  dollars  the  amount 
of  the  loan  which  they  exacted  from  the  United  States, 
with  a  douceur  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  dol 
lars  for  the  private  comfort  of  the  members  of  the 
Directory. 

A  fourth  meeting  was  held,  and  on  the  plenipoten 
tiaries  presenting  the  object  of  their  mission  in  what 
they  thought  its  proper  light :  "  Gentlemen,"  said 
the  secret  agent,  "  you  mistake  the  point  altogether. 
You  say  nothing  of  the  money  you  are  to  give — you 
make  no  offer  of  money ;  on  that  point  you  are  not 
explicit." 

"We  are  explicit  enough,"  replied  the  American 
envoys.  "  We  will  not  give  you  one  farthing ;  and, 
before  coming  here,  we  should  have  thought  such  an 


432  A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

offer  as  you  now  propose,  would  have  been  regarded 
as  a  mortal  insult." 

"  You  again  mistake  the  point,"  coolly  observed 
the  agent.  "  We  are  above  a  bribe,  and  want  merely 
a  fee  to  advocate  your  claims,  just  as  you  would  pay 
a  lawyer  to  plead  your  cause.  You  had  better  reflect 
on  the  matter,  and  let  me  know  the  result  of  your  de 
liberations." 

Having  continued  to  reject  persistently  such  dis 
graceful  propositions,  the  American  envoys  remained 
several  months  in  Paris  without  being  accredited,  and 
finally  returned,  without  having  had  the  opportunity 
to  discuss  officially  the  object  of  their  mission. 

The  Directory,  believing  the  people  of  the  United 
States  would  not  support  their  Government  in  a  war 
against  France,  issued  a  decree  subjecting  to  capture 
and  condemnation  neutral  vessels  and  their  cargoes, 
if  any  portion  of  the  latter  was  of  British  fabric  or 
produce,  although  the  entire  property  might  belong 
to  neutrals.  The  United  States  being  at  this  time 
the  great  neutral  carriers  of  the  world,  this  iniqui 
tous  decree  struck  at  a  vital  point  in  their  maritime 
power.  * 

The  Directory  had  reckoned  too  much  on  the  par 
tiality  of  the  American  people  for  the  French.  Such 
insults  and  outrages  at  once  roused  their  temper, 
changed  their  dispositions,  and  with  an  indignant 
spirit  they  prepared  for  a  war  which  they  considered 
inevitable.  Congress  resolved  on  vigorous  measures, 
and  the  President  was  authorized  to  enlist  ten  thou 
sand  men  as  a  provisional  army,  to  be  called  by  him 
into  actual  service,  in  case  of  hostilities.  "  If  the 


*  Irving's  "  Life  of  Washington,"  p.  271,  vol.  v. 


A  UBER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 


433 


French  come  here,"  wrote  Adams,  "we  will  have  to 
march  with  a  quick  step  and  attack,  for  in  that  way 
alone  they  are  said  to  be  vulnerable." 

Washington  was  appointed  commander-in-chief,  and 
Hamilton  next  in  command.  In  recommending  him, 
Pickering,  the  secretary  of  state,  wrote  :  "  The  enemy 
whom  we  are  now  preparing  to  encounter,  veterans 
in  arms,  led  by  able  and  active  officers,  and  accus 
tomed  to  victory,  must  be  met  by  the  best  blood, 
talents,  energy,  and  experience  that  our  country  can 
produce." 

Gouverneur  Morris,  who  had  remained  in  London, 
had  maintained  a  regular  correspondence  with  his 
friend  Dubayet,  at  Constantinople,  and  had  kept  him 
informed  of  these  facts  and  details.  They  mortified 
him  so  deeply  that  his  heakh,  which  had  never  been 
strong,  gave  way  entirely.  The  dreadful  shock  which 
he  had  received  in  early  youth  in  Louisiana,  had  never 
been  forgotten,  and  its  lingering  effects  could  be  de 
tected  in  the  latent  melancholy  which  he  carried  with 
him  through  life,  concealed  as  much  as  possible,  but 
doing  its  withering  work  in  the  depths  of  the  heart. 
As  a  diversion  from  his  sorrows,  he  had  resolved  to 
keep  himself  incessantly  engaged  in  the  execution  of 
noble  and  great  purposes.  He  had  assisted  the  suc 
cessful  creation  of  two  republics  in  two  hemispheres, 
which  were  the  hope  of  mankind,  and  which  were  to 
spread  universal  liberty,  peace,  equality,  and  fraternity 
all  over  the  whole  earth.  What  an  illusion  it  had 
proved  to  be !  The  two  model  republics,  on  two  dif 
ferent  continents,  although  separated  by  the  broad 
Atlantic,  were  on  the  eve  of  grappling  together,  not 
in  a  sisterly  embrace,  but  in  a  deadly  struggle.  One 
of  these  republics  was  already  steeped  in  blood  and 
19 


434  A  USER  T  D  UBA  YE  T. 

corruption  !  What  would  become  of  the  other,  the 
virgin  of  the  wilderness?  Did  he  not  clearly  see  in 
her  such  seeds  or  germs  of  demoralization  as  might, 
in  the  course  of  time,  and  under  circumstances  favor 
able  to  putrefaction,  develop  themselves  into  appall 
ing  growth  and  expansion?  In  his  dejection,  he  felt 
as  if  all  incentives  to  action  were  gone,  since  it  was 
impossible  to  do  any  permanent  good  in  the  world, 
and  to  achieve  any  progress  in  private  or  public  mor 
als  and  in  the  science  of  government,  without  a  cor 
responding  retrogression,  which  brought  the  chariot 
of  civilization  back  to  its  starting-point,  notwithstand 
ing  so  many  discoveries  and  improvements  in  the 
realm  of  matter.  He  considered  humanity  as  typified 
in  the  symbolic  circle  of  the  snake  biting  its  tail. 
With  a  mind  in  such  a  condition,  and  a  constitution 
weakened  by  a  long-indulged  sorrow,  Dubayet  yielded 
easily  to  a  malignant  fever  which  suddenly  attacked 
him,  and  died  at  Constantinople,  on  the  7th  of  De 
cember,  1797,  in  the  thirty-eighth  year  of  his  age, 
with  the  knowledge  and  conviction  that,  in  this  world 
which  he  left  when  still  so  young,  "  all  is  vanity  of 
vanities,"  save  the  unselfish  satisfaction  proceeding 
from  the  consciousness  of  the  performance  of  duty 
under  all  circumstances,  and  the  internal  consolations 
derived  from  the  divine  sources  of  morality  and  re 
ligion. 

THE   END. 


APPENDIX. 


CLOSING    REMARKS. 

AFTER  having  described  the  revolutionary  throes 
accompanying  the  birth,  in  the  last  century,  of  the 
two  greatest  republics  of  modern  times  in  Europe  and 
in  America,  the  author  believes  that  it  will  not  be  inap 
propriate  and  foreign  to  the  subject  he  has  treated, 
to  place  before  his  readers,  in  the  shape  of  an  ap 
pendix,  the  following  episode  showing  the  last  agonies 
of  the  ancient  Roman  republic,  when  perishing  under 
the  deadly  effects  of  lawlessness  and  corruption,  and 
gradually  transforming  itself  into  a  social  and  polit 
ical  condition  which,  in  accordance  with  eternal  and 
inflexible  laws,  necessitated  the  advent  of  imperial 
despotism. 


436  APPENDIX, 

A  HISTORICAL  EPISODE 

OF 

THE  LAST  DAYS  OF  THE  ROMAN  REPUBLIC 


THE  WIFE  OF  CESAR — THE  MYSTERIES  OF  THE  GOOD  GOD 
DESS —  THE  TRIAL  OF  CLODIUS  FOR  SACRILEGE  AND 
ADULTERY  —  THE  JUDGES  BRIBED — SCENES  IN  THE 
FORUM  AND  IN  THE  SENATE  OF  ROME — GENERAL  COR 
RUPTION.* 

ON  the  5th  of  December,  692  of  the  Roman  Era, 
and  62  years  before  the  birth  of  Christ,  under  the 
consulate  of  Julius  Silanus  and  Licinius  Murcna,  early 
in  the  morning,  there  could  be  observed  in  the  streets 
of  Rome  a  greater  agitation  than  usual.  The  vast 
human  hive  was  evidently  in  a  state  of  commotion. 
In  the  Forum,  and  particularly  in  the  Sacred  Street — 
Via  Sacra — there  were  groups  of  excited  men  talking 
and  gesticulating  with  extreme  animation  ;  a  number 
of  priests  were  seen  moving  about  in  various  direc 
tions,  and  when  they  met,  conversed  in  a  low  tone 
of  voice,  apparently  on  a  subject  which  seemed  to  fill 
them  with  anxiety.  Some  extraordinary  event  had  no 
doubt  happened,  or  was  expected.  What  was  it  ?  Wild 
rumors  of  every  sort  circulated  rapidly.  Some  said 
that  another  Catiline  conspiracy  had  been  discovered  ; 
others,  that  Cato,  the  inflexible  adversary  of  all 
agrarian  laws,  had  been  murdered  by  the  violent  and 


*  The  writer  of  this  article  has  derived  the  materials  with 
which  he  has  constructed  it,  from  Cicero,  Suetonius,  Seneca, 
Plutarch,  and  other  authorities,  but  chiefly  from  Dumazeau's 
"  Barreau  Remain." 


APPENDIX.  437 

unprincipled  advocates  of  such  measures;  that  Cicero 
had  quarreled  with  Pompey  and  Crassus;  that  a 
Roman  army  had  been  entirely  destroyed  somewhere 
—  nobody  yet  knew  in  what  locality  and  by  what 
enemy.  Suppositions  and  conjectures  increased,  as 
time  flew,  in  number  and  in  sensational  force.  Crowds 
had  gathered  densely  in  front  of  the  residence  of  each 
of  the  two  consuls,  in  the  hope  that,  from  that  quarter, 
the  first  reliable  news  would  come  out.  The  excite 
ment  was  growing  in  intensity,  when  the  street  door 
of  Consul  Silanus  opened  and  let  out,  to  the  wonder 
of  the  multitude,  the  venerated  matron,  Aurelia,  the 
aged  mother  of  Julius  Caesar.  An  expression  of  deep 
grief  was  in  her  face;  she  walked  slowly  and  with 
difficulty,  supported  by  the  female  servants  who  es 
corted  her.  The  people  crowded  around  her  as  much 
as  respect  permitted ;  her  son  was  already  dear  to 
them.  Had  he  been  the  victim  of  some  cowardly 
and  secret  attempt  against  his  life,  and  had  she  come 
to  inform  the  consul  ?  Being  eagerly  interrogated  as 
to  the  truth  of  this  conjecture,  she  replied :  "  No, 
Caesar  still  lives,  to  serve  the  Roman  people,  but  asks 
redress  for  the  insult  offered  to  his  name  and  to  his 
household  Gods."  A  few  minutes  afterward,  the 
whole  population  of  Rome,  of  high  and  low  degree, 
knew  the  adventure  which,  the  night  previous,  had 
taken  place.  On  that  night,  the  mysteries  of  the 
Good  Goddess  were  to  be  celebrated  at  the  house  of 
Caesar,  the  high  pontiff,  under  the  direction  of  Pom- 
peia,  his  wife,  daughter  of  Quintus  Pompey  and  niece 
of  Lucius  Sylla.  What  of  that  Good  Goddess? 
What  of  her  mysterious  worship?  In  what  did  it 
consist?  Nobody  ever  knew  exactly.  Her  true  name, 
for  she  had  more  than  one,  was  to  be  communicated 


438  APPENDIX. 

only  to  women,  and  they  seem  to  have  kept  the  secret. 
No  man  was  permitted  to  be  present  in  the  building 
where  those  mysteries  were  celebrated,  and  even  every 
picture,  statue,  effigy,  or  anything  whatever,  animate 
or  inanimate,  in  which  there  was  any  trace  of  the 
male  sex,  was  to  be  carefully  removed,  or  veiled. 

A  female  slave,  named  Abra,  had  been  stationed  at 
the  door  opening  into  the  inner  peristyle,  to  admit  the 
Roman  women  who,  as  soon  as  the  sun  disappeared 
beneath  the  horizon,  were  seen  moving  from  all  parts 
of  the  city  toward  the  house  of  Caesar.  The  relig 
ious  sacrifices  were  to  be  accomplished  in  a  large  hall 
prepared  for  the  occasion.  A  woman  presented  her 
self  with  her  face  carefully  veiled.  Her  stature  was 
rather  uncommon  for  one  of  her  sex,  and  a  close  ob 
server  could  have  detected  a  slight  degree  of  embar 
rassment  or  confusion  in  her  manner.  On  her  being 
asked  her  name,  she  replied:  "I  am  the  Milesian 
Neera,  chorist  of  the  Good  Goddess  in  her  temple  on 
Mount  Aventine."  There  must  have  been  something 
preconcerted  between  them,  because,  on  hearing  these 
words,  Abra  put  her  finger  on  her  lips  as  if  recom 
mending  silence,  prudence,  and  caution,  and  taking 
the  pretended  Neera  by  the  hand,  led  her  rapidly 
through  a  long  series  of  galleries,  and  left  her  to  her 
self  in  a  small  room  of  the  upper  story  where  com 
plete  obscurity  prevailed.  It  was  the  chamber  of 
Abra. 

The  person  who  had  thus  assumed  the  character  of 
a  chorist  was  Publius  Clodius  Pulcher.  His  illustrious 
family  was  traced  back  to  the  foundation  of  Rome 
itself.  He  inherited  the  surname  of  Pulcher,  the 
handsome,  from  one  of  his  ancestors,  but  it  seems 
that  he  very  little  deserved  the  complimentary  appel- 


APPENDIX.  439 

lation  ;  for,  Cicero  once  apostrophizing  him  in  one 
of  his  speeches,  said  :  "  I  believe  that,  should  a  mir 
ror  be  presented  to  you,  you  would  find  yourself  to 
be  very  far  from  being  Pulcher,  handsome."  Never 
theless,  he  was  a  favorite  with  the  women  of  Rome. 
He  was  a  haughty,  overbearing,  impetuous  profligate, 
renowned  for  his  debaucheries,  and  was  even  suspect 
ed  of  having  an  incestuous  intercourse  with  his  three 
sisters — one  of  them  the  wife  of  Lucullus.  That 
personage  had  changed  the  orthography  of  his  pat 
ronymic  name — from  Claudius  to  Clodius.  He  had 
become  such  a  demagogue,  that  perhaps  it  was  to 
show  by  this  change,  that  he  renounced  all  connec 
tion  with  his  noble  ancestors ;  and  in  order  to  be 
elected  a  tribune,  to  which  office  no  patrician  could 
aspire,  he  at  last  caused  himself  to  be  adopted  into  a 
plebeian  family,  and  thus  became  one  of  the  people. 
They,  in  the  course  of  time,  rewarded  him  with  the 
position  which  he  had  desired,  and  from  which  he 
expected  to  derive  the  authority  and  influence  he 
needed  for  the  accomplishment  of  all  his  nefarious 
schemes.  He  was  a  hideous  assemblage  of  all  the 
vices  without  one  solitary  redeeming  quality,  and  his 
audacity  was  fully  equal  to  the  perverseness  of  his 
heart. 

This  was  the  man  who  was  in  the  chamber  of  Abra, 
waiting  for  the  object  of  his  guilty  passion.  But  the 
religious  ceremonies  had  begun,  and  Pompeia,  who 
performed  in  them  the  principal  part,  could  not  with 
draw  without  its  being  remarked.  Impatient  of  delay, 
and  perhaps  moved  by  an  irresistible  curiosity  to  peep 
into  the  celebrated  mysteries  of  the  Good  Goddess, 
Clodius  left  the  room  where  he  was  safely  concealed 
and  directed  his  steps  to  a  place  where  melodious 


440  APPENDIX. 

sounds  attracted  his  attention.  He  lost  his  way,  as 
he  cautiously  wandered  through  the  sinuosities  of 
vaulted  arches  by  whose  obscurity  he  thought  himself 
protected.  He  met  a  female  slave,  who  proposed  to 
lead  him  where  they  could  entertain  themselves  with 
some  amusement  or  other.  He  refused  ;  she  insisted  ; 
he  persisted  in  his  silent  refusal.  Somewhat  nettled 
by  his  obstinacy,  she  attempted  to  drag  him  to  some 
lighted  spot  where  she  could  see  his  face.  Clodius  then 
said  that  he  was  Neera  the  singer,  and  that  he  was 
in  search  of  Abra ;  but  his  voice,  which  he  could  not 
sufficiently  modify  to  make  it  support  his  assumed 
part,  betrayed  his  sex,  and  the  alarm  was  given.  A 
shout  announced  that  a  man  was  within  the  sacred 
precincts.  The  frightened  women  shrieked  and 
gathered  together  like  a  flock  of  sheep ;  the  religious 
ceremonies  were  interrupted,  and  the  holy  emblem 
atic  images  used  in  the  celebration  of  the  mysteries 
were  veiled  to  protect  them  against  a  profane  eye. 
Aurelia  promptly  ordered  all  the  doors  to  be  closed, 
and  with  lighted  torches  a  search  being  made,  the 
audacious  person  who  had  sacrilegiously  violated  the 
mysteries  of  the  Good  Goddess  was  soon  discovered. 
The  indignant  crowd  of  women  precipitated  them 
selves  upon  the  guilty  one,  whom  they  devoted  to 
the  Infernal  Gods  with  the  usual  imprecations.  The 
tumult  was  at  the  highest,  when  Abra,  availing  herself 
of  the  confusion,  got  hold  of  Clodius,  hurried  him 
through  a  gallery  which  was  not  lighted,  and  facili 
tated  his  escape  by  a  secret  door.  But  he  had  been 
recognized,  and  at  day-break,  Aurelia,  as  already 
stated,  had  hastened  to  give  information  of  this  sac 
rilege  to  Consul  Silanus. 

This  amorous  adventure,  complicated  with  an  out- 


APPENDIX. 


441 


rage  against  religion,  assumed  from  other  circum 
stances  the  character  of  a  political  event,  which  was 
destined  in  its  consequences  to  have  a  serious  influ 
ence  on  the  affairs  of  the  State.  For  some  time  past 
many  Romans  had  reconciled  themselves  to  the  idea 
that  the  end  of  the  republic  was  at  hand,  and  that  a 
concentration  of  all  powers  in  one  man  was  bound 
to  be  the  necessary  result  of  those  fatal  intestine  dis 
sensions  and  civil  wars  which  had  undermined  its 
very  foundations,  by  introducing  the  dissolving  ele 
ment  of  universal  corruption,  private  and  public.  The 
grand  republic,  so  noble  at  its  birth,  had  become  noth 
ing  else  than  a  monstrous,  gigantic  mass  of  putrefac 
tion.  This  had  stimulated  the  unscrupulous  ambition 
of  three  men,  who  dreamed  of  possessing  themselves 
of  a  permanent  dictatorship.  They  were  Crassus, 
Pompey,  and  Caesar.  The  first  based  his  hopes  on 
his  colossal  wealth  ;  the  second  on  his  military  glory, 
which  had  made  him  the  idol  of  the  people ;  and  the 
third  on  the  consciousness  of  his  own  genius  and  on 
his  belief  in  the  fortune  which  destiny  had  prepared 
for  him.  Caesar  knew  that  he  was  Caesar.  That  was 
enough  to  plan  the  conquest  of  the  world,  including 
the  subjugation  of  his  own  country.  Those  tm*ee  men 
united  themselves  to  remove  all  the  obstacles  which 
they  found  in  their  way,  although  they  subsequently 
became  divided  as  soon  as  they  had  gathered  the 
fruits  of  a  common  victory.  Cato  and  Cicero  strug 
gled  against  the  accomplishment  of  those  schemes  of 
usurpation  that  were  manifest  to  all.  Cato  had  all 
the  energy  of  a  sincere  republican  and  austere  stoician. 
But  Cicero,  with  all  his  eloquence,  his  patriotism,  and 
his  many  other  virtues,  was  sometimes  weak  and 
vacillating.  His  philosophy  was  not  so  stern  and  his 
19* 


442  APPENDIX. 

nerves  so  strong  as  to  impart  to  his  mind  that  fixed 
ness  of  purpose  which  shrinks  from  no  danger,  be 
they  a  threatening  reality,  or  existing  only  in  an 
alarmed  imagination,  but  no  less  powerful  in  their  in 
fluence.  The  luxury  of  certain  material  and  intel 
lectual  enjoyments  in  Rome,  or  at  his  famous  coun 
try-seat  of  Tusculum,  was  too  keenly  appreciated  by 
Cicero  not  to  make  him  alive  to  the  consequences  of 
risking  too  much,  although  it  can  not  be  denied  that 
he  fearlessly  made  great  sacrifices  in  his  country's 
cause. 

The  crime  of  Clodius  had  been  the  occasion  of  a 
wide-spread  scandal.  Notwithstanding  the  stupend 
ous  corruption  of  the  epoch,  the  religious  institutions, 
formerly  so  much  respected,  still  retained  a  powerful 
hold  on  the  mind  and  heart  of  a  portion  of  the  popu 
lation,  which  felt  itself  profoundly  outraged  in  its 
faith  ;  and  the  women,  particularly,  were  clamorous 
for  the  punishment  of  the  sacrilegious  offense  that 
had  been  committed.  But  the  patrician  Clodius  was 
known  as  desiring  to  be  adopted  in  a  plebeian  family, 
as  already  stated,  and,  therefore,  disposed  to  renounce 
his  caste.  He  had  assumed  to  be  the  warm,  or  rather 
the  furious  advocate  of  the  interests,  wishes,  and  pas 
sions  of  the  people,  who  were  grateful  to  him  for  his 
efforts  on  their  behalf.  They  could  not  forget  that 
he  intended  to  descend  voluntarily  into  their  ranks, 
and  to  abandon  all  the  aristocratic  privileges  of  his 
race,  which  for  centuries  had  been  famous  for  its 
haughtiness  and  its  contempt  for  the  lower  classes. 
He  was,  therefore,  in  possession  of  an  immense 
popularity,  that  made  him  worth  being  conciliated 
by  every  one  of  those  ambitious  men  who  aimed 
at  sovereign  power,  and  who  hoped  to  cajole  the 


APPENDIX.  443 

people  into  willing  servitude,  or  into  granting  the 
means  of  destroying  their  liberties  at  the  oppor 
tune  moment.  Hence,  Crassus  and  Pompey  could 
not  but  be  inclined  to  serve  him,  if  not  by  declaring 
themselves  openly  in  his  favor  on  this  occasion,  when 
he  had  brought  himself  into  peril,  at  least  by  secretly 
helping  him  with  their  influence.  The  interest  of 
Caesar  was  the  same.  It  was  his  policy  not  to  pro 
voke  the  enmity  of  that  energetic  demagogue,  but  his 
position  was  exceedingly  delicate.  As  a  pontiff  and 
as  a  husband  he  had  been  outraged  in  a  double  ca 
pacity.  His  political  interests,  however,  prevailed 
over  a  just  resentment,  and  he  joined,  as  much  as  de 
cency  permitted,  his  efforts  to  those  of  his  two  associ 
ates,  Crassus  and  Pompey,  to  save  the  lover  of  his  wife, 
although  he  had  hastened  to  repudiate  her.  In  palli 
ation  of  his  conduct,  if  it  can  be  palliated  at  all,  it 
must  be  remembered  that  in  those  days  of  advanced 
civilization  to  which  Rome  had  attained,  Romans  had 
ceased  to  care  much  for  the  fidelity  of  their  wives. 

The  consuls,  whose  term  of  office  was  soon  to  ex 
pire,  were  disposed  to  follow  a  policy  of  prudent  in 
action,  and  to  refrain  from  taking  the  initiative  in  a 
criminal  prosecution  which  might  subject  them  to  the 
animadversion  of  the  populace.  Less  timid,  or  per 
haps  actuated  by  secret  feelings  of  enmity  toward 
Clodius,  Quintus  Cornificus,  who  had  lately  been  a 
candidate  for  the  consulship  in  opposition  to  Cicero, 
denounced  the  alleged  crime  to  the  Senate.  This 
act  of  virtuous  energy  on  the  part  of  a  man  who  had 
always  shown  himself  more  of  an  unprincipled  dem 
agogue  than  a  rigid  conservative,  or  guardian  of  pub 
lic  morals,  caused  universal  astonishment.  People 
wondered  at  the  inexplicable  motive  of  his  conduct, 


444 


APPENDIX. 


as  his  sympathies,  considering  his  character  and  usual 
deportment,  were  supposed  to  be  enlisted  in  favor  of 
Clodius.  Whatever  was  his  spring  of  action,  it  is  cer 
tain  that  he  forcibly  related  the  circumstances  of  the 
case,  expatiated  at  length  on  the  gravity  of  the  offense, 
insisted  on  having  the  accused  brought  before  the 
proper  tribunal,  and  declared  that  he  himself,  if  no 
other  undertook  the  task,  would  appear  in  the  char 
acter  of  public  prosecutor.  As  he  was  known  to  be 
a  friend  of  Clodius,  some  suspected  that  his  object 
was  to  obtain  the  management  and  control  of  the 
trial,  and  to  conduct  it  in  such  a  manner  as  to  make 
it  a  failure.  This  was  not  uncommon  at  that  epoch 
on  the  part  of  those  who  favored  the  accused  parties, 
and  who  had  recourse  to  that  stratagem. 

There  was  another  anomalous  circumstance.  Caius 
Scribonius  Curio,  the  friend  of  Cicero,  and  his  firm 
supporter  in  his  former  quarrels  with  Clodius  —  so 
much  so  that  he  had  been  beaten,  it  is  said,  by  the 
slaves  of  that  ferocious  partisan  on  account  of  his  op 
position  to  their  master's  schemes — now  showed  him 
self  favorable  to  the  accused,  and,  without  assuming 
to  justify  him,  called  the  attention  of  the  Senate  to 
the  fact  that,  even  admitting  the  truth  of  what  was 
related,  there  was  a  preliminary  question  to  be  set 
tled,  which  was,  whether  what  Clodius  had  done  was 
a  crime  or  not — alleging  that  it  was  the  first  time  that 
such  an  occurrence  had  happened  ;  that  it  was  not 
foreseen  and  provided  for  by  any  law  ;  that  inasmuch 
as  it  was  an  affair  of  a  religious  nature,  the  Senate 
had  no  jurisdiction  over  it,  and,  therefore,  that  it  was 
indispensable  to  refer  the  matter  to  the  consideration 
of  the  Sacred  College  of  Pontiffs.  The  main  object 
of  this  proposition  was  to  gain  time,  and  to  post- 


APPENDIX, 


445 


pone  all  further  action  until  after  the  first  of  January, 
when  the  new  consuls  were  to  come  into  office.  It 
was  known  that  one  of  them,  Piso  Calpurnius,  was 
completely  devoted  to  Clodius,  and  it  was  hoped  that, 
through  his  influence,  the  unfavorable  feelings  and 
dispositions  entertained  by  his  colleague,  Valerius 
Messala  Niger,  might  be  paralyzed.  After  a  very 
animated  debate,  Curio's  motion  was  adopted,  and 
the  affair  was  referred  to  the  pontiffs.  This  was  one 
point  gained  by  Clodius.  Curio's  course,  considering 
his  previous  antagonism  to  Clodius,  appears  enigmatic 
to  posterity,  but  perhaps  was  well  understood  and  ap 
preciated  by  his  contemporaries.  In  a  demoralized 
state  of  society,  made  worse  by  civil  discords  and  in 
tense  party  excitement,  such  tackings  about,  or  shift- 
ings  of  the  ship's  sails,  in  which  individual  interest  is 
the  only  recognized  pilot,  or  such  coat-turnings  as 
may  suit  the  exigencies  of  the  hour,  are  not  unfre- 
quent.  The  morality  of  modern  times  has  been  more 
than  once  shocked  by  similar  circumstances  in  high 
places,  where  the  very  conspicuousness  of  the  varia 
tions  might  have  been  supposed  to  be  a  check  against 
their  occurrence. 

The  question  did  not  seem  doubtful  to  the  Sacred 
College.  It  was  remembered  that,  in  the  year  567  of 
the  foundation  of  Rome,  under  the  consulship  of  Pos- 
tumius  Albinus  and  Marcus  Philippus,  certain  women 
having  been  accused  of  incest  during  the  celebration 
of  the  mysteries  of  Bacchus,  the  Senate  had  instructed 
the  consuls  to  proceed  to  an  investigation,  and  that 
several  of  those  women  had  been  tried  and  punished 
with  death.  It  was  thought  by  the  Sacred  College 
that  the  introduction  of  a  man  into  the  building  where 
the  mysteries  of  the  Good  Goddess  were  celebrated, 


446  APPENDIX. 

evidently  constituted  a  sacrilege,  and  also  that  the 
priestly  character  which  Pompeia  derived  from  the 
sacerdotal  dignity  of  her  husband  as  pontiff,  combined 
with  the  sacredness  of  the  place  where  the  outrage 
had  been  committed,  assimilated  to  incest  the  adul 
tery  of  which  Clodius  was  suspected.  The  Sacred  Col 
lege,  therefore,  declared  that  the  act  attributed  to 
him  was  a  crime  de  religione,  or  pollutis  sacris,  or  de 
incestu. 

A  report  to  that  effect  being  made  to  the  Senate, 
gave  rise  to  immediate  discussion.  Cornificus  deliv 
ered  a  speech  in  which  he  again  expatiated  on  the 
enormity  of  the  offense,  and  on  the  necessity  of  quiet 
ing,  by  an  exemplary  punishment  of  the  offender,  the 
consciences  of  the  honest  and  the  pious.  This  was 
very  well  thus  far;  but  what  was  the  tribunal,  or  qiuzs- 
tio,  which  could  entertain  jurisdiction  over  the  case? 
It  was  admitted  that  there  was  none.  Nobody  thought 
of  bringing  Clodius  before  the  ordinary  and  perma 
nent  tribunals  established  to  judge  assassins,  pecula 
tors  in  the  provinces  subjected  to  the  rule  of  Rome, 
plunderers  of  the  public  treasury,  and  perpetrators  of 
the  crime  of  bribery  and  corrupt  canvassing.  Conse 
quently,  it  was  indispensable  to  create,  by  a  special 
law,  a  special  tribunal,  quastio  extra  ordincm. 

Cato  spoke  after  Cornificus,  and  adopted  his  con 
clusions.  The  sacrilege  of  Clodius  could  not  remain 
unpunished,  but  he  feared  a  scandalous  impunity, 
should  the  accused  be  tried  by  a  special  tribunal, 
which,  according  to  precedent  and  usage,  would  be 
composed  of  judges  drawn  by  lot.  "  In  recent  trials," 
he  said,  "  has  it  not  been  demonstrated  how  weak 
has  become  the  sentiment  of  duty  and  justice  in  the 
breasts  of  the  people,  from  whose  ranks  the  jurors 


APPENDIX. 


447 


were  to  be  taken  according  to  the  accidents  of  chance, 
and  how  easy  it  was  to  corrupt  those  administrators 
of  the  law  thus  improvised  at  random.  What  judges, 
designated  by  the  blind  caprice  of  the  drawing  by  lot, 
will  condemn  Clodius,  so  powerful  by  his  wealth,  by 
his  family  connections,  by  the  sympathies  felt  for  him 
by  all  the  enemies  of  order  and  peace,  and  by  the 
secret  support  of  ambitious  men,  who  speculate  on 
the  audacity  and  popularity  of  this  patrician  dema 
gogue  ?  Therefore,  if  this  was  an  occasion  for  the 
creation  of  a  special  tribunal,  it  also  was  a  matter  of 
absolute  necessity  to  decree  that  the  judges  be  se 
lected  by  the  prcetor,  or  magistrate,  instead  of  leaving 
the  composition  of  the  tribunal  to  the  uncertain  ar 
bitration  of  chance." 

On  hearing  these  sentiments,  the  partisans  of 
Clodius,  who  had  artfully  grouped  themselves  for 
effect  and  mutual  support  in  the  Senate,  burst  into 
a  wild  clamor,  accompanied  by  violent  gesticulations. 
"  What ! "  exclaimed  Curio,  "  is  Clodius  so  great  a 
personage  in  our  republic  that  our  existing  laws  are 
too  feeble  to  rise  up  to  the  height  of  his  importance 
and  power,  and  that  he  can  be  reached  only  by  the 
extraordinary  exercise  of  an  exceptional  legislation, 
applying  singly  to  his  person  ?  Or  is  he  the  object  of 
such  implacable  hatred,  that  men  who  have  hitherto 
been  considered  as  the  most  vigP.ant  guardians  of  the 
established  laws,  propose  to  violate  them  for  the  pur 
pose  of  securing  the  gratification  of  their  revengeful 
passions  ?  Exceptional  legislation  for  a  special  case 
has  always  been  regarded  with  disfavor  by  the  Roman 
people,  because  one  of  their  most  objectionable  effects 
is,  to  be  retroactive — an  odious  feature,  which  has  been 
eloquently  and  energetically  denounced  by  Cicero  in 


448  APPENDIX. 

the  trial  of  Verres,  and  explicitly  prohibited  in  the 
laws  cf  the  Twelve  Tables.  It  is  proposed,  not  only 
to  institute  an  extraordinary  tribunal,  but,  moreover, 
to  invest  it  with  the  power  to  pass  judgment  over  a 
sacrilege  and  an  incest.  Would  not  this  be  a  viola 
tion  of  all  the  sound  principles  of  jurisprudence  ?  Can 
two  crimes  entirely  distinct  be  cumulated  and  sub 
jected  to  the  same  jurisdiction  ?  If  the  Senate  should 
be  of  opinion  that  there  are  good  grounds,  which  I 
am  far  from  admitting,  to  order  a  criminal  prosecu 
tion  against  Clodius,  there  ought  at  least  to  be  created 
two  tribunals — one  for  each  of  the  alleged  crimes. 
With  regard  to  the  proposition  to  give  to  the  praetor 
the  choice  of  the  judges,  it  is  a  monstrous  one,  which 
I  resist  to  the  utmost  of  my  ability ;  and  thoroughly 
convinced  I  am  that,  if  this  body  should  thus  dare  to 
trample  underfoot  all  those  usages,  precedents,  and 
principles  which  are  matters  of  common  law,  the  peo 
ple  would  know  how  to  render  justice  in  the  premises 
by  reprobating  and  checking  such  iniquitous  pro 
ceedings." 

Cicero,  whose  authority  had  been  quoted,  rose  and 
said:  "  True  it  is  that,  in  the  case  mentioned,  I  spoke 
with  the  usual  energy  of  my  convictions  against  the 
abuses  of  retroactive  legislation,  but  the  orator  to 
whom  I  reply  has  forgotten  that,  on  the  occasion  to 
which  he  called  our  attention,  it  was  an  edict  of  the 
praetor  Verres  which  I  assailed.  There  is  no  assimi 
lation  to  be  made  between  an  edict  emanating  from  a 
magistrate  concerning  private  matters,  and  a  law  pro 
posed  by  the  Senate  and  approved  by  the  people. 
The  special  laws  passed  to  meet  particular  cases  in 
analogous  circumstances  are  so  numerous,  that  I  do 
not  deem  it  necessary  to  recite  them,  because  they 


APPENDIX. 


449 


are  well  knov/n  to  all.  With  regard  to  the  cumulation 
of  accusations,  of  which  Curio  complains,  I  can  not 
explain  to  myself  the  position  he  has  taken,  except 
on  the  hypothesis  of  his  being  blinded  by  the  excess 
of  his  zeal  for  the  defense  of  his  friend,  because  no 
body  can  plead  ignorance  of  the  fact  that  the  perma 
nent  tribunal  constituted  by  the  law  Cornelia  took 
cognizance  of  the  crimes  of  assassination,  of  poison 
ing,  and  of  the  bribing  of  judges,  although  these  were 
distinct  facts,  and  of  a  different  nature.  After  all,  in 
the  present  affair,  the  necessity  of  conforming  to  the 
same  jurisprudence  results  from  the  connection  of  the 
two  crimes  attributed  to  Clodius — a  connection  which 
is  so  close  that  it  merges  them  into  one — because  the 
circumstances  of  time  and  place  are  such  that  they 
make  of  adultery  an  incest  and  a  sacrilege.  I  see, 
therefore,  no  objection  to  prosecuting  Clodius  for  the 
crime  de  religione,  according  to  the  conclusions  of  the 
Sacred  College  of  Pontiffs.  Finally,  I  am  of  opinion, 
in  relation  to  the  motion  of  Cato,  that  it  certainly  ap 
pertains  to  the  Senate,  when  it  creates  a  new  tri 
bunal,  to  propose  that  the  people,  whose  will  is  sov 
ereign,  should  ultimately  determine,  for  the  best  in 
terests  of  justice,  either  the  number  of  the  judges,  or 
the  mode  of  selecting  them,  or  both,  and  the  forms  of 
the  proceedings." 

Fierce  and  long  were  the  debates.  Several  senators 
imputed  other  crimes  to  Clodius  —  among  others, 
that  of  sexual  intercourse  with  his  sister,  the  wife  of 
Lucullus.  At  last,  after  the  most  stormy  delibera 
tions,  the  Senate  passed  a  Senatus  Consultum  decree 
ing  the  formation  of  an  extraordinary  tribunal  to 
judge  Publius  Clodius  Pulcher,  accused  of  the  crime 
of  sacrilege.  That  tribunal  was  to  be  composed  of 


450 


APPENDIX. 


fifty-six  jurors,  chosen  by  the  praetor  presiding  at  the 
trial,  outside  of  the  ordinary  jury  list,  if  he  deemed 
it  proper.  As  to  the  mode  of  proceeding,  it  was  to 
be  in  conformity  to  the  forms  and  rules  prescribed 
for  the  court  which  took  cognizance  of  peculations. 
(De  pecuniis  repetendis).  The  consuls  were  invited, 
according  to  the  ordinary  formula,  to  apply  to  the 
people  for  the  necessary  sanction  to  convert  into  law 
the  present  Senatus  Consultum.  (Rogatio). 

The  decree  of  the  Senate  produced  a  great  surprise 
and  commotion  in  Rome,  the  general  impression  hav 
ing  been  that  the  partisans  of  Clodius  would  have 
the  upper-hand  in  that  body.  He  had  relied  on  the 
influence  of  Crassus  and  Pompey,  who,  probably 
yielding  to  a  sentiment  of  shame,  had  prudently 
kept  aloof.  The  Consul  Piso,  who  was  entirely  de 
voted  to  Clodius,  was  indignant  at  their  equivocal 
conduct,  and  urged  the  tribune  Fufius  Calenus  to 
seize  the  first  opportunity  to  force  Pompey  to  mani 
fest  his  dispositions.  That  opportunity  was  not  long 
in  presenting  itself.  The  tribune,  having  met  Pompey 
in  the  circus  of  Flaminius  on  a  market  day,  called 
upon  him  to  declare  in  the  presence  of  the  crowd 
there  assembled,  whether  he  approved  the  Senatus 
Consultum  which  delegated  to  the  praetor  the  choice 
of  the  judges,  and  what  was  his  opinion  about  the 
best  mode  of  composing  the  tribunal.  Pompey  was 
surprised  and  nettled.  He  aristocratically  answered 
that  it  appeared  and  had  always  appeared  to  him  tha.t 
the  authority  of  the  Senate  should  be  held  superior 
to  any  other.  The  rest  of  his  remarks  were  prolix, 
embarrassed,  and  devoid  of  any  precise  meaning. 
This  ambiguity  and  trimming  pleased  neither  of  the 
contending  parties.  Shortly  after,  Consul  Messala 


APPENDIX.  45 ! 

asked  him  in  full  Senate  what  he  thought  of  the  affair 
of  Clodius.  His  answer  did  not  differ  much  from 
what  he  had  already  said  in  the  circus  of  Flaminius. 
He  so  enveloped  his  sentiments  in  a  cloud  of  words 
that  it  was  impossible  to  discover  what  they  were ; 
and  after  having  praised  in  general  terms  the  pro 
found  wisdom  of  the  august  assembly,  he  went  and 
took  a  seat  by  the  side  of  Cicero,  to  whom  he  said  : 
"  Do  you  not  think  that  I  have  been  sufficiently  ex 
plicit  on  that  ugly  case?"  It  is  fair  to  suppose  that 
Cicero,  who  was  always  cautious  to  keep  on  good 
terms  with  Pompey,  did  not  give  a  very  positive 
answer.  Crassus  rose  and  spoke  in  pompous  terms 
of  the  glories  of  Cicero's  consulship,  praised  his  cour 
age,  extolled  his  services  to  the  sky,  but  said  nothing 
of  the  affair  of  Clodius,  whom  he  was  known  secretly 
to  favor.  This  was  an  artful  diversion  from  the  sub 
ject  on  which  he  suspected  Cicero  of  being  disposed 
to  speak  energetically  and  with  damaging  effect  to 
his  friend.  He  succeeded ;  the  vanity  of  the  great 
orator  was  well  known,  and  was  prodigiously  tickled 
on  that  occasion.  He  wrote  to  Atticus  in  an  ecstasy 
of  pride  and  joy  :  "  This  day  has  made  me  a  Crassus 
man."  Then  he  added,  about  the  speech  which  he 
had  delivered  in  reply:  "By  the  Immortal  Gods,  how 
handsomely  I  made  my  toilet,  and  in  my  best  dress 
paraded  in  the  presence  of  Pompey !  If  ever  sono 
rous  periods,  happy  inflections  of  the  voice,  richness 
of  invention,  artifices  of  language,  came  to  my  aid, 
it  was  certainly  on  that  day.  Hence,  what  acclama 
tions  !  It  is  true  that  I  was  treating  of  the  dignity 
of  the  Senate,  of  its  perfect  accord  with  the  Eques 
trian  Order,  of  the  excellent  spirit  which  prevails 
throughout  Italy,  of  the  expiring  remnants  of  the 


452  APPENDIX. 

Catiline  conspiracy,  of  the  low  price  of  grain,  and  of 
the  re-established  peace.  You  know  how  my  words 
ring  when  I  «peak  on  such  a  subject.  Being  con 
vinced  that  tli  iy  sounded  loud  enough  to  reach  your 
ears,  notwithstanding  the  distance  which  separated 
us,  I  will  refrain  from  saying  anything  further  as  to 
the  grand  effect  which  they  produced."  Evidently 
the  satisfaction  of  Cicero  was  unbounded.  But  what 
of  Clodius,  whom  he  had  forgotten?  Surely  Crassus 
must  have  laughed  in  his  beard  and  enjoyed  hugely 
the  success  of  his  artifice. 

Meanwhile,  the  day  on  which  the  people  were  to 
vote  for  the  approbation  or  rejection  of  the  Senatus 
Consultum  had  arrived.  From  early  morn  the  whole 
city  was  in  commotion.  All  the  young  debauchees 
who  had  joined  in  the  Catiline  conspiracy,  were  seen 
actively  moving  in  the  most  populous  thoroughfares 
and  advocating  the  rejection  of  the  Senatus  Consult 
um.  Piso,  who  as  consul  had  been  officially  com 
pelled  to  submit  the  measure  to  the  vote  of  the  peo 
ple,  participated  in  these  shameful  manoeuvres.  The 
agents  of  Clodius  swarmed  at  every  point  and  were 
distributing  ballots  for  the  rejection.  On  these  bal 
lots  was  inscribed  the  letter  A — meaning  :  Antiquo — 
that  is,  "  I  vote  for  what  is  ancient ;  no  innovation." 
The  formula  of  adoption  was  an  U  and  R — uti 
rogas — which  meant :  "  Let  it  be  done  as  desired." 
Cato,  seeing  with  what  ability  the  partisans  of  Clodius 
were  conducting  their  intrigues,  and  fearing  a  defeat 
for  the  Senate,  ascended  the  rostrum,  and  called  Con 
sul  Piso,  who  happened  to  be  present,  to  an  account 
for  his  conduct.  This  was  done  with  a  vivacity  of  in 
dignation  which  produced  a  profound  sensation.  Hor- 
tensius  succeeded  Cato  whose  views  he  supported 


APPENDIX. 


453 


with  the  animated  flow  of  his  usual  eloquence.  Other 
orators  were  heard  ;  they  all  agreed  in  their  withering 
denunciations  of  the  corrupt  practices  of  the  friends 
of  Clodius.  Their  success,  however,  was  doubtful, 
when  fortunately  perhaps  for  the  fate  of  the  Senatus 
Consultum,  it  was  announced  that  the  auspices  were 
unfavorable,  and  therefore  the  comitia  were  pro 
rogued.  It  was  a  convenient  circumstance,  which 
frequently  happened  whenever  it  suited  the  patri 
cians,  who  alone  had  the  privilege  of  consulting  the 
entrails  of  the  animals  sacrificed  to  the  Gods. 

Thus  time  was  gained,  and  the  situation  of  affairs 
was  considered  so  important,  that  the  Senate  was 
convened  in  extraordinary  session  as  in  cases  of  ur 
gency,  and  a  member  proposed  to  invite  by  a  decree 
the  consuls  to  solicit  the  sanction  of  the  people  to 
the  Senatus  Consultum  in  question ;  which  was  an 
extreme  measure,  only  resorted  to  in  exceptional  cir 
cumstances.  Clodius,  alarmed  at  this  firm  persever 
ance  of  the  senators  in  their  resolution  to  prosecute 
him,  affected  great  humility  and  threw  himself  as  a 
suppliant  at  the  feet  of  the  most  influential.  Piso 
and  Curio  made  great  efforts  to  have  the  proposition 
rejected.  The  decree,  however,  was  adopted  by  a 
majority  of  400  to  15 — the  vote  being  ascertained  by 
sitting  and  standing.  The  decree  said  that  the  comitia 
should  be  convened  de  novo  to  take  cognizance  of  the 
affair  in  preference  to  any  other.  This  was  a  crush 
ing  result,  but  Clodius  was  not  abashed.  He  who, 
when  the  issue  was  doubtful,  had  put  on  so  humble 
a  garb,  resumed  the  attitude  of  haughtiness  which 
was  natural  to  his  character,  and  addressed  Horten- 
sius,  his  brother-in-law  Lucullus,  and  Consul  Mes- 
sala  in  the  most  violent  and  insulting  language,  over- 


454  APPENDIX. 

whelming  them  with  reproaches  and  threats.  As  to 
Cicero,  Clodius  ironically  complimented  him  on  his 
marvelous  talent  to  discover  conspiracies  and  all 
sorts  of  crimes. 

A  few  days  afterward,  the  comitia  were  assembled. 
Gifted  with  that  prodigious  activity  which  character, 
izes  the  abettors  of  popular  troubles  and  disturbances, 
and  which  Cicero  calls  horribilis  diligentia,  Clodius 
had  stimulated  and  raised  the  courage  of  his  parti 
sans,  whilst  he  had  by  his  defamations  undermined 
his  adversaries  in  the  public  estimation.  He  had 
personally  attacked  Cicero,  who  from  the  rostrum  re 
plied  with  one  of  those  broadsides  which  he  so  well 
knew  how  to  direct  against  his  enemies,  when  his  fiery 
zeal  for  the  safety  and  dignity  of  the  commonwealth 
had  not  cooled  down  into  moderation  from  pruden 
tial  considerations.  He  was  elated  at  the  manner  in 
which  he  spoke  on  that  occasion.  "  Immortal  Gods!  " 
he  wrote  to  Atticus.  "  With  what  blows  I  demolished 
my  adversaries !  What  a  carnage  I  made  of  them! 
How  I  rushed  on  Piso,  Curio,  and  all  those  miserable 
bandits !  How  I  crushed  to  the  earth  under  the 
weight  of  my  contempt  and  indignation  those  hare 
brained  old  men  and  those  beardless  debauchees ! " 
Still  there  were  apprehensions  as  to  the  result  of  the 
vote.  Hortensius,  frightened  at  the  turn  which  the 
affair  took,  imagined  an  expedient  which,  as  he 
thought,  would  give  satisfaction  to  the  populace,  and 
at  the  same  time  save  the  dignity  of  the  Senate. 
The  main  complaint  of  Clodius  against  that  body 
was  based  on  that  part  of  the  decree  which  conferred 
on  the  praetor  the  power  to  compose  the  tribunal  as 
he  pleased.  Hortensius  suggested  to  the  tribune 
Fufius,  whose  opposition  he  feared,  the  idea  of  pro- 


APPENDIX. 


455 


posing,  as  an  amendment  coming  from  himself  (Fufius) 
that  the  Senatus  Consultum  be  adopted  in  all  its  pro 
visions,  with  the  exception  of  what  was  relative  to 
the  composition  of  the  tribunal.  Fufius  acceded  to 
it  with  eagerness,  and  presented  the  amendment  to 
the  people. 

This  compromise  was  generally  approved,  but 
Cicero  opposed  it  with  much  earnestness.  According 
to  his  views,  the  gist  of  the  law  was  that  very  part  of 
it  which  was  proposed  to  be  suppressed,  so  much  so, 
that,  so  far  as  he  was  personally  concerned,  he  would 
prefer  the  absolute  rejection  to  the  adoption  of  the 
offered  compromise,  because  it  was  much  better  to 
abandon  Clodius  and  leave  him  to  his  infamy,  than  to 
institute  against  him  a  derisive  prosecution.  Hor- 
tensius  insisted,  being  convinced,  as  he  said,  that  the 
culprit  could  not  escape,  whatever  was  the  composi 
tion  of  the  tribunal,  and  that  "  a  leaden  sword  would 
suffice  to  pierce  him."  His  conclusions  were  finally 
adopted  by  many  of  those  who  had  been  originally 
opposed  to  the  amendment,  and  what  was  called  the 
law  Fufia  passed  by  the  vote  of  a  large  majority. 

This  issue  of  the  first  phase  of  the  prosecution 
profoundly  discouraged  Cicero.  From  that  moment 
"  he  drew  in  his  sails,"  according  to  his  own  expres 
sions,  and  kept  aloof,  as  if  he  saw  in  the  future  the 
flames  which  devoured  his  house  and  the  decree  which 
sent  him  into  exile. 

Four  citizens  presented  themselves  before  the 
praetor  as  the  accusers  of  Clodius.  They  were  the 
three  brothers  Lentulus,  of  the  great  Cornelian  fami 
ly,  and  Fannius,  one  of  the  Pontiffs.  Publius  Lentu 
lus,  the  eldest  of  the  brothers  and  the  highest  in  dig 
nity,  was  the  principal  accuser,  and  swore  that  his  ac- 


456  APPENDIX. 

cusation  was  not  based  on  any  evil  motives  and  was 
not  for  the  purpose  of  calumniating  the  accused. 
His  two  brothers  and  Fannius  joined  him  as  secon 
dary  accusers  (subscriptores).  They  all  signed  the 
proccs  verbal  recording  the  names  of  the  accusers  and 
of  the  accused,  the  taking  of  the  oath,  the  allegation 
and  definition  of  the  crime,  together  with  the  date  of 
the  day  fixed  for  the  opening  of  the  trial,  which  was, 
after  a  delay  of  ten  days.  Accordingly,  the  praetor 
summoned  the  accused,  the  accusers,  and  the  judges 
or  jurors  for  the  4th  of  May,  693  of  the  foundation 
of  Rome,  after  the  Floral  games. 

II. 

Among  the  great  judicial  trials  recorded  in  history 
there  are  few  which  present  themselves  to  the  imagi 
nation  with  such  circumstances  of  pomp  and  grandeur. 
The  real  accusers  were  the  Roman  Senate  and  peo 
ple  ;  the  accused  was  the  powerful  descendant  of  the 
great  Claudian  family,  whose  origin  was  coeval  with 
that  of  the  Eternal  City.  The  advocates  on  both 
sides  were  patricians  and  senators ;  the  witnesses 
were  the  mother  and  sister  of  Caesar,  Caesar  himself, 
Cicero,  and  other  illustrious  personages.  The  theatre 
of  the  debates  was  the  Forum,  and  one  may  be  al 
lowed  to  suppose  that  among  the  audience  were  the 
invisible  Gods,  whose  temples  encircled  on  all  sides 
the  august  seats  to  be  occupied  by  fifty-six  judges. 
In  appearance  the  question  was  whether  a  man  had 
been  guilty  of  sacrilege  and  adultery,  but  in  reality  it 
was,  which  of  the  elements  of  good  and  evil  engaged 
in  a  death  struggle,  would  predominate,  and  influence 
the  destinies  of  the  mistress  of  the  world.  The  tem 
ple  of  justice  had  become  a  political  arena,  and  the 


APPENDIX. 


457 


verdict  of  the  jury  was  to  be  the  measure  and  evi 
dence  of  that  corruption  which  bred  civil  wars,  de 
stroyed  the  republic,  and  made  a  necessity  of  the 
Augustan  empire. 

On  the  day  of  the  famous  trial,  the  4th  of  May,  the 
Forum  was  invaded  before  sunrise  by  an  immense 
multitude.  The  porticoes  of  the  temples  of  Saturn, 
of  Castor  and  Pollux,  of  Vesta  and  of  Concord  were 
loaded  with  spectators,  as  well  as  every  spot,  roof, 
gallery,  or  elevated  point  from  which  the  eye  could 
embrace  the  Forum.  At  nine  o'clock,  a  long  swell  or 
undulation  was  noticed  in  that  ocean  of  human  beings, 
which  parted  to  give  passage  to  Clodius,  who  was 
seen  advancing  with  slow  steps,  and  accompanied  by 
his  defenders,  four  in  number,  by  his  numerous  clients 
and  friends,  and  by  several  members  of  his  family, 
among  whom  were  conspicuous  his  three  sisters, 
Clodia,  Pulchra,  and  Tertia,  who  were  in  mourning 
apparel.  At  a  short  distance  behind  Clodius  came 
the  accusers,  followed  by  many  persons  of  distinction, 
among  whom,  the  Consul  Messala,  Cicero,  Cato,  Ca 
tullus,  Caius,  Piso,  Lucullus,  and  others.  The  prsetor 
was  not  long  in  presenting  himself  with  his  two  lie- 
tors,  his  clerks,  and  bailiffs.  He  took  his  seat  in  the 
centre  of  the  Forum  on  an  elevated  estrade.  Behind 
him  were  exhibited  a  pike  and  a  sword,  as  the  em 
blems  of  command  and  force.  A  little  lower,  at  a 
certain  distance  on  the  right,  was  the  bench  of  the 
accusers  in  the  shape  of  a  semicircle.  In  line,  on  the 
left,  was  the  bench  of  the  accused  and  his  defenders. 
The  space  between  the  estrade  and  those  benches  on 
both  sides  was  occupied  by  the  seats  of  the  judges, 
in  the  shape  of  a  hemicycle.  A  balustrade  about 
three  feet  high  encircled  the  whole. 


458  APPENDIX. 

The  case  being  called,  the  pnEtor  announced  that 
he  would  proceed  to  the  first  drawing  by  lot  (sortitio) 
of  the  fifty-six  judges,  or  jurors,  who  were  to  take 
cognizance  of  the  accusation  against  Clodius.  He 
added  that  the  accuser  and  accused  had  each  the  right 
to  recuse  twenty-eight  ;  that  is,  ten  in  the  order  of  the 
senators,  nine  in  the  order  of  the  knights,  and  nine 
in  the  order  of  the  tribunes  of  the  treasury.  Imme 
diately,  the  bailiffs  brought  three  urns  containing 
balls,  on  which  were  inscribed  the  names  of  the  jurors 
who  were  to  serve  as  such  during  the  year.  These 
urns  having  been  opened,  the  praetor  drew  from  the 
first,  nineteen  names  of  senators;  from  the  second, 
nineteen  names  of  knights ;  and  from  the  third, 
eighteen  names  of  tribunes  of  the  treasury — in  all, 
fifty-six  judges.  The  accuser,  having  risen,  declared 
that  he  recused  twenty  one  judges,  whom  he  desig 
nated.  The  accused  challenged  nine.  The  praetor 
announced  that  he  would  proceed  to  the  second  draw 
ing  by  lot  to  complete  the  number  of  the  judges  (sub- 
sort  it  id).  Consequently,  he  drew  again,  as  he  had 
done  before,  and  exactly  in  the  same  manner,  fifty-six 
names.  Then  addressing  the  accuser,  he  informed 
him  that  his  right  being  to  recuse  half  of  the  judges 
— that  is,  twenty-eight — and  his  having  already  re 
cused  twenty-one,  there  remained  only  seven  to  be 
challenged  by  him,  to  wit :  six  in  the  order  of  sena 
tors,  and  one  in  the  order  of  knights.  He  also  noti 
fied  the  accused  that  he  had  the  right  to  nineteen  re- 
cusations — seven  among  the  tribunes  of  the  treasury, 
seven  among  the  knights,  and  five  among  the  sena 
tors.  He  then  placed  the  fifty-six  names  in  a  fourth 
urn,  and  proceeded  to  draw  again,  either  party  chal 
lenging  as  the  drawing  went  on — the  accuser  first, 


APPENDIX. 

and  the  accused  next.  The  right  of  recusation  being 
exhausted  on  both  sides,  the  judges,  or  jurors,  seated 
themselves  and  took  the  prescribed  oath.  The  prae 
tor  declared  that  the  tribunal  was  finally  constituted. 

These  preliminaries  had  not  been  gone  through 
without  considerable  disorder.  Each  time  a  recusa 
tion  was  made,  shouts  of  approbation  or  disapproba 
tion  had  been  heard  from  the  crowd,  according  to 
the  feelings  of  the  sympathizers  with  either  party. 
The  judges  had  hardly  been  sworn,  when  the  public 
began  to  conjecture  about  the  issue  of  the  trial, 
based  upon  the  composition  of  the  tribunal.  Clodius 
had  exercised  his  right  of  recusation  with  remarkable 
tact,  and  succeeded  in  setting  aside  most  of  the  inde 
pendent  and  honest  citizens  whose  names  had  been 
called.  There  could  be  seen  among  the  judges,  if 
Cicero  is  to  be  believed,  senators  of  ill-repute,  knights 
in  rags,  and  tribunes  of  the  treasury,  "  who  certainly 
had  no  treasury  of  their  own."  Three  of  the  judges 
were  of  a  notoriously  bad  character,  and  the  presence 
of  a  few  honest  men  whom  the  challenging  by  the  ac 
cused  had  not  been  able  to  reach,  was  not  a  sufficient 
guarantee  for  an  impartial  judgment. 

The  praetor  informed  the  accuser  that  he  had  the 
right  to  open  the  case. 

The  law  servilia,  which  was  enacted  thirty-two 
years  before,  to  put  an  end  to  certain  abuses,  had  or 
dered  that,  in  cases  of  a  specific  nature,  the  pleadings 
should  embrace  two  days,  with  an  interval  of  one  day. 
The  second  hearing,  or  pleading,  was  called  compe- 
rendinatio — that  is,  the  pleading  of  the  third  day. 
This  proceeding,  which,  at  first,  was  restricted  to 
special  cases,  was  later  extended  to  several  sorts  of 
criminal  actions,  and  it  seems  that  the  law  Fufia  had 


460  APPENDIX. 

made  it  applicable  to  the  Clodius  case.  In  the  course 
of  time,  the  advocates,  considering  that  these  two 
pleadings  were  supererogatory,  and  were  tiresome  to 
the  judges  and  to  themselves,  because  it  frequently  was 
a  mere  repetition  of  the  same  arguments,  had  gradu 
ally  adopted  the  habit  of  reducing  the  first  pleading 
to  a  simple  exposition  of  the  general  features  of  the 
affair,  reserving  for  the  second  hearing  the  examina 
tion  of  the  proofs  and  the  offering  of  their  strongest 
arguments.  They  had  found  it  to  their  advantage  to 
speak  only  after  the  testimony  had  closed,  rather  than 
split  their  discourse  into  two  parts,  one  before  and 
the  other  after  the  proofs.  But  this  course  was  not 
very  favorable  to  the  accused,  because  it  gave  to  the 
accuser  the  opportunity  to  reserve  his  best  points, 
and  to  comment  with  more  precision  and  effect  on 
the  evidence  presented. 

Publius  Lentulus,  therefore,  limited  himself  to  ex 
posing  the  facts  of  the  case  as  they  resulted  from  the 
versions  which  were  believed  to  be  the  most  accurate, 
and  to  presenting  some  remarks  based  on  the  gravity 
of  the  crime  attributed  to  Clodius,  and  on  the  respon 
sibility  which  rested  on  the  judges.  He  drew  a  vivid 
picture  of  the  situation  of  the  Republic,  and  showed 
that  it  was  on  the  very  brink  of  terrible  disasters  and 
final  ruin,  through  the  violence  of  those  factions  which 
were  the  natural  results  of  such  causes  as  the  general 
corruption  of  the  commonwealth,  the  rivalship  of  am 
bitious  men,  and  the  ever-growing  contempt  for  the 
majesty,  sanctity,  and  power  of  the  Gods. 

After  Lentulus  had  concluded,  the  pnetor  signified 
to  the  accused  that  it  was  his  turn  to  speak.  Then 
Curio,  the  principal  defender  of  Clodius,  rose  and  ad 
dressed  the  court.  After  a  pathetic  exordium,  in 


APPENDIX.  46! 

which  he  attempted  to  enlist  the  sympathies  of  the 
judges  in  favor  of  a  citizen  whose  greatest  crime — 
nay,  whose  sole  crime  in  the  eyes  of  the  nobles — was 
to  have  always  warmly  embraced  the  cause  of  the 
people  in  all  conflicts  between  them  and  their  patrician 
adversaries,  he  bitterly  complained  of  the  laconism  of 
the  argument  of  the  counsel  on  the  opposite  side. 
"  Thus  far,"  he  said,  "  on  what  rests  so  grave  an  ac 
cusation  ?  Relating  merely  the  gossipings  scraped 
up  in  the  fish-market,  the  accuser  reserves,  no  doubt, 
for  the  second  hearing,  some  great  stage  effect  sedu 
lously  concealed  from  us.  Truth  ignores  these  tricks, 
and  does  not  fear  to  show  herself  at  once  in  all  her 
chaste  and  commendable  nudity.  Clodius  does  not 
require  two  days'  preparation  to  justify  himself.  He 
is  ready  to  establish,  without  delay,  that  on  the  4th 
of  December,  692,  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening,  he 
was  in  the  city  of  Interamnium,  at  the  house  of  his 
friend,  Cassinius  Schola,  and,  therefore,  that  he  could 
not  be  in  Rome  when  the  sacrilege  is  alleged  to  have 
been  committed.  The  alibi  will  be  proved  beyond  a 
doubt  by  a  large  number  of  respectable  witnesses,  and 
it  will  be  demonstrated  to  every  man  of  good  faith 
and  impartiality  that  my  client  is  the  victim  of  an 
atrocious  calumny,  or  a  deplorable  error."  He  then 
reviewed  certain  circumstances  that  rendered  improb 
able  the  facts  brought  forth  by  the  accusation,  and  he 
strove  to  refute  in  advance  the  proofs  which  the  ac 
cuser  had  announced.  In  concluding,  he  alluded  to 
the  last  words  of  Lentulus  :  "  Yes,"  he  said,  "  the  Re 
public  is  in  danger ;  but  keep  it  in  mind,  Romans, 
that  it  is  less  from  the  contempt  for  religion  than 
from  the  avarice  of  the  patricians."  This  apostrophe 
was  received  with  boisterous  acclamations  from  the 


462  APPENDIX. 

partisans  of  Clodius,  who  had  grouped  themselves 
near  him  as  much  as  possible,  and  those  acclamations 
were  echoed  through  the  crowd  to  the  very  extrem 
ities  of  the  Forum.  When  silence  was  at  last  re-estab 
lished,  the  praetor  invited  the  accuser  to  produce  his 
witnesses,  and  the  clerks  prepared  themselves  to  take 
down  the  depositions. 

The  first  witness  was  Aurelia,  the  mother  of  Caesar. 
After  having  sworn  by  Jupiter  to  tell  the  truth,  she 
thus  spoke:  "You  all  know  it,  O  judges  ;  the  4th  of 
December  was  the  day  fixed  for  the  celebration  of  the 
mysteries  of  the  Good  Goddess.  The  sacrifice  which 
was  to  be  offered  in  the  name  of  the  Roman  people 
was  to  have  taken  place  in  the  house  of  the  high 
pontiff,  Caius  Julius  Caesar,  my  son.  My  daughter- 
in-law,  Pompeia,  was  called  upon,  on  account  of  the 
sacerdotal  dignity  of  her  husband,  to  fulfill  the  minis 
try  of  high  priestess.  At  four  o'clock  in  the  after 
noon,  Caesar  departed  with  all  the  male  persons  of 
his  household.  All  male  animals  had  been  sent  away. 
The  statues,  the  paintings,  and  everything  which  rep 
resented  persons  or  animals  of  the  male  sex,  had  been 
carefully  veiled.  When  this  was  done,  the  Vestals  de 
clared  that  the  grounds  were  consecrated,  and  pro 
nounced  the  usual  imprecations  against  any  profane 
intruder  who  should  dare  to  pollute  them  by  his 
presence.  At  8  o'clock  the  women  invited  to  the 
celebration  of  the  mysteries  had  arrived,  the  holy 
things  were  uncovered,  and  the  ceremonies  began. 
Between  eight  and  a  half  and  nine,  a  great  noise  was 
heard  in  the  triclinium,  and  almost  at  the  same  time 
my  slave  ^Egypta  rushed  into  the  oratorio,  with  di 
shevelled  hair  and  her  dress  in  disorder.  '  A  man  is 
here,'  she  cried.  Immediately  the  songs  ceased,  and 


APPENDIX.  463 

the  Vestals  threw  themselves  on  the  sacred  objects  to 
prevent  them  from  being  seen.  I  ordered  all  the 
doors  to  be  closed.  ^Egypta  informed  me  that  the 
man  she  had  met  was  in  female  attire,  and  indicated 
the  direction  he  had  gone.  We  visited  the  house 
with  lights,  even  the  most  secret  places,  and  we  found 
in  the  chamber  of  Abra,  the  slave  of  Pompeia,  a  per- 
son  dressed  like  a  woman,  but  whom  it  was  easy  to 
discover  to  be  a  man.  At  that  moment  there  rushed 
in  a  crowd  of  women,  and  availing  himself  of  the 
tumult  which  ensued,  the  stranger  disappeared  and 
could  not  be  found  again.  Early  on  the  next  morn 
ing,  I  called  on  Consul  Silanus  to  complain  of  this 
abominable  sacrilege.  I  have  said." 

Lentulus,  having  risen,  asked  her  if  she  had  seen 
and  recognized  the  man  of  whom  she  had  spoken. 
She  answered  :  "  I  saw  and  recognized  him,  I  believe. 
I  believe*  that  it  was  Publius  Clodius  Pulcher,  the 
son  of  Appius  Claudius."  This  declaration  produced 
a  moment  of  agitation  among  the  spectators  who 
were  the  nearest  to  the  tribunal. 

"Will  you  describe  the  costume  of  the  pretended 
Clodius  ?  " .  asked  Curio,  addressing  the  witness.  "  I 
can  not,"  she  replied,  "  but  ^Egypta  will." 

Lentulus  expressed  the  desire  to  know  if  Pompeia 
had  left  the  sacred  place  of  the  sacrifice  between 
eight  and  nine  o'clock.  The  witness  affirmed  that 
she  was  not  aware  of  it,  and  did  not  think  that  she 
had  absented  herself. 


*  Witnesses  among  the  Roman  people  generally  gave  their 
testimony  with  great  circumspection.  They  did  not  say : 
"  I  saw,  I  heard,  but  I  believe  that  I  saw,  that  1  heard."  This 
formula,  expressive  of  what  was  the  "  Socratic  doubt,"  had 
passed  from  the  Academy  to  the  Forum. 


464  APPENDIX. 

After  Aurelia,  the  sister  of  Cresar,  Julia,  was  heard. 
Her  testimony,  delivered  with  clearness  and  without 
hesitation,  confirmed  her  mother's  declarations.  Next 
came  C?esar.  He  declared  that  he  had  been  several 
hours  absent  from  his  house  when  the  incident  oc 
curred,  and  therefore  that  he  knew  nothing.  Being 
hard  pushed  by  the  accusers,  he  persisted  in  the  same 
reserve  and  even  refused  to  repeat  any  of  the  reports 
which  had  reached  his  ears,  because  it  was  impossible 
for  him  to  ascertain  if  they  were  correct.  "  If  you 
know  nothing,"  testily  said  Lentulus,  "  how  is  it  that 
you  have  repudiated  Pompeia  ?  "  "  Because,"  he  re 
plied,  "  the  wife  of  Caesar  must  not  even  be  sus 
pected." 

The  fourth  witness  was  the  slave  ^Egypta.  She 
thus  spoke  :  "  I  had  been  appointed  to  guard  exter 
nally  the  place  where  the  sacrifice  for  the  Roman  peo 
ple  was  to  be  accomplished.  About  nine  o'clock,  I 
discovered  at  the  extremity  of  a  gallery  a  woman 
whom  I  took  to  be  a  slave.  I  went  to  her  and  pro 
posed  a  game  of  osselets.  She  did  not  answer ;  she 
turned  her  head,  and  walked  a  few  steps  from  me,  as  if 
going  away.  I  followed  her,  drew  her  to  a  lamp  sus 
pended  from  the  vaulted  ceiling,  and  asked  her  who 
she  was,  to  be  so  disdainful.  She  replied  that  she  was 
one  of  the  singers  of  the  Good  Goddess,  and  that  she 
was  looking  for  Abra.  It  was  not  the  voice  of  a 
woman.  I  seized  the  unknown  by  the  arm,  but  she 
got  rid  of  me  by  so  abrupt  and  violent  a  movement, 
that  I  no  longer  had  any  doubt  as  to  her  sex."  The 
witness  then  repeated  ail  that  had  already  been  said 
by  Aurelia.  Curio  having  asked  her  if  she  had  rec 
ognized  Clodius,  she  answered  that  she  could  not 
have  recognized  him,  because  he  was  unknown  to 


APPENDIX.  465 

her ;  but  that  several  of  the  Roman  dames,  on  seeing 
the  person  she  had  mentioned,  exclaimed :  "  It  is 
Clodius." 

Confronted  with  the  accused,  she  believed  that  she 
recognized  him  as  the  person  in  question,  who,  how 
ever,  was  younger  and  beardless.  Interrogated  as  to 
the  costume,  she  declared  that  the  pretended  chorist 
of  the  Good  Goddess  wore  a  saffron-colored  robe,  a 
head-dress  in  the  shape  of  a  mitre,  purple  ribbons,  a 
tucker,  and  a  buskin,  such  as  are  used  by  women,  and 
that  she  carried  a  harp. 

Abra  testified  with  great  unconcern  on  the  facts  al 
ready  known,  as  if  she  had  not  been  an  accomplice. 
Keenly  interrogated  by  both  sides,  she  confessed  that 
she  had  admitted  the  chorist  dressed  as  ^gypta  had 
described,  but  averred  that  she  did  not  know  who  she 
was  and  had  lost  sight  of  her  immediately  after  her 
admittance.  She  emphatically  denied  having  facili 
tated  her  evasion.  After  Abra,  several  Roman  mat 
rons  testified.  They  all  declared  that  they  thought 
they  had  recognized  Clodius. 

Then  Marcus  Tullius  Cicero  was  called  as  a  witness. 
On  hearing  that  name,  the  partisans  of  Clodius  broke 
out  into  an  immense  clamor.  Yells  after  yells  of 
rage  resounded  far  and  wide.  Alarmed  at  this  threat 
ening  demonstration,  the  judges  spontaneously  rose 
from  their  seats  and  surrounded  Cicero,  as  if  to  pro 
tect  the  man  who  had  so  well  deserved  the  appella 
tion  of  "  father  of  his  country,"  and  by  gestures  and 
words  gave  the  perturbators  of  the  peace  to  under 
stand  that  they  were  determined  to  defend  the  illus 
trious  witness  at  the  peril  of  their  lives.  This  atti 
tude  of  the  tribunal  produced  a  profound  impression 
on  the  people,  and  Clodius  himself  seemed  to  be 
20 


466  APPENDIX. 

struck  with  dismay.  The  howls  ceased  by  degrees, 
and  Cicero  could  give  his  testimony.  He  swore  that, 
on  the  day  of  the  celebration  of  the  mysteries  of  the 
Good  Goddess,  he  had  seen  Clodius  at  six  in  the 
evening  in  Rome,  and  had  conversed  with  him  on  the 
affairs  of  the  Republic.  He  added  that  this  fact  was 
so  well  known  in  the  city,  and,  if  necessary,  could  be 
proved  by  so  many  witnesses,  that  it  would  not  have 
been  possible  for  him  not  to  mention  it,  even  if  he 
had  been  so  disposed. 

Curio  then  rose  and  said  :  "  There  is  not  one  of  us 
who  does  not  know  the  jealous  and  shrewish  temper 
of  Terentia,  the  wife  of  Cicero.  She  has  taken  into 
her  head  that  Clodia,  the  sister  of  Clodius,  entertains 
the  singular  fancy  of  marrying  Cicero  after  having 
induced  him  to  repudiate  her,  Terentia,  and  that  this 
negotiation  is  now  being  conducted  by  Tullius,  a 
friend  of  both  houses.  I  ask  the  witness,  whose 
reverential  submission  to  the  will  of  Terentia  is  not 
a  secret  for  anybody,  if  the  declaration  which  he  has 
just  made  has  not  been  suggested  to  him  by  the  ne 
cessity  of  re-establishing  peace  in  his  household." 
This  question  elicited  loud  laughter  on  the  benches 
of  the  accused  and  of  his  friends.  When  silence  was 
restored,  Cicero  answered  with  calm  dignity,  in  a 
tone  not  untinged,  however,  with  irony :  "  That  he 
had  never  raised  his  pretentions  to  the  thought  of 
marrying  Clodia,  although  it  was  well  known  that  she 
had  a  tempting  dowry  of  quadrantes  ;*  that  he  was 


*  Clodia  was  one  of  the  loosest  women  of  Rome.  It  was  re 
lated  that  one  of  her  numerous  lovers  had  once,  in  derision,  sent 
her  a  bag  of  small  coins,  of  very  little  value,  called  quadrantes, 
as  an  adequate  price  for  her  favors.  Hence  the  surname  of 
qaudr  ant  aria  given  to  her. 


APPENDIX.  467 

far  from  believing  that  she  had  ever  thought  of  him, 
because  he  knew  her  taste  for  family  alliances  ;*  and 
that,  with  regard  to  Terentia,  even  admitting  as  true 
the  ridiculous  ideas  attributed  to  her,  she  could  not 
have  been  so  insensate  as  to  desire  the  removal  of  a 
man  whose  assiduous  attentions  to  Clodia  were  rather 
a  cause  of  security  for  her  supposed  jealousy  than 
one  of  inquietude." 

The  answer  produced  an  explosion  of  hilarity ;  all 
eyes  turned  toward  Clodia,  and  it  was  with  difficulty 
that  the  praetor  put  an  end  to  this  war  of  sarcasms. 

Curio,  however,  was  not  put  out  of  countenance. 
He  said  that  he  was  not  willing  to  insist  on  simple 
conjectures,  whatever  might  be  their  plausibility. 
But  he  thought  it  not  improper  to  remind  the  judges 
that  the  Vestal  Fabia,  the  sister  of  Terentia,  had  been 
accused  of  incest  by  Clodius,  and  that,  although  she 
had  been  acquitted,  yet  it  was  easy  to  understand 
that  Terentia  had  cherished  against  the  accused,  in 
the  present  trial,  a  resentment  which  was  necessarily 
shared  by  the  witness. 

Cicero,  who  had  withdrawn  from  the  stand,  signi 
fied  by  a  gesture  that  he  would  not  condescend  to 
reply. 

Other  witnesses  were  heard  in  support  of  the  accu 
sation.  Cato  testified  as  to  some  facts  which  were 
of  little  importance.  Lucullus  produced  two  of  his 
female  slaves  who  swore  that  Clodius  had  entertained 


*  It  was  a  matter  of  public  notoriety  that  Clodius  entertained 
an  incestuous  commerce  with  his  three  sisters,  and  particularly 
with  Clodia.  This  infamous  creature  had  married  the  celebrated 
Lucullus,  and  after  being  repudiated  by  him,  had  become  the 
wife  of  the  Consul  Metellus  Celer  !  There  can  not  be  a  stronger 
illustration  of  the  moral  putrefaction  of  Rome  at  that  epoch. 


468  APPENDIX. 

a  criminal  intercourse  with  his  sister,  whilst  she  was 
the  wife  of  their  master,  who  had  repudiated  her,  not 
only  for  that  crime,  but  also  for  other  acts  of  licen 
tiousness.  Several  distinguished  personages  testified 
as  to  facts  by  which  it  was  intended  to  show  that 
Clodius  had  been  guilty  of  perjury  and  peculation, 
of  electoral  bribery  and  rape.  Thus  it  is  seen  that 
in  Rome  a  criminal  prosecution  took  a  wide  range. 
The  accused,  when  charged  with  a  particular  crime, 
was  subjected  to  a  critical  review  of  his  whole  life, 
and  all  his  past  transgressions  were  invoked  against 
him  as  presumptive  evidence  of  his  having  commit 
ted  the  one  for  which  he  was  tried.  To  this  day  the 
criminal  jurisprudence  of  France,  which  is  derived  to 
some  extent  from  the  Romans,  is  tainted  with  the 
same  vicious  and  unjust  mode  of  proceeding. 

At  last,  at  the  request  of  the  accuser,  some  of  the 
slaves  of  Clodius  were  interrogated  as  to  the  manner 
in  which  he  had  passed  his  time  during  the  evening 
of  the  4th  of  December.  This  was  an  exceptional 
proceeding,  authorized  only  in  trials  de  religione.  But 
nothing  was  extracted  from  them  which  could  crimi 
nate  the  accused. 

The  evidence  being  closed  on  the  part  of  the  ac 
cuser,  the  court  adjourned  to  the  next  day. 

On  the  5th  of  May,  early  in  the  morning,  the  crowd 
again  took  possession  of  the  Forum — not  more  nu 
merous  than  on  the  preceding  day — that  would  have 
been  impossible — but  better  disposed  for  Clodius,  be 
cause  the  night  had  been  employed  in  gaining  him 
partisans.  The  court  being  in  session,  the  witnesses 
for  the  accused  were  called. 

The  first  who  presented  himself  declared  that  his 
name  was  Caius  Cassinius  Schola,  a  Roman  knight, 


APPENDIX.  469 

residing  in  the  city  of  Interamnium.  After  having 
sworn  to  tell  the  truth,  he  said  that,  on  the  4th  of 
December,  Clodius,  at  nine  o'clock  in  the  evening, 
had  come  to  his  house,  where  he  had  passed  the  rest 
of  the  night,  and  that  he  had  returned  to  Rome  the 
next  day. 

Lentulus  asked  Cassinius  Schola  what  was  the  dis 
tance  between  Rome  and  Interamnium.  The  witness 
answered  that  it  was  about  sixty-six  miles ;  that  no 
doubt  it  was  difficult  to  admit  that  Clodius  could  have 
been  seen  at  both  places  on  the  same  day,  and  at  the 
same  hour,  but  that  it  was  not  for  him,  the  witness, 
to  do  away  with  this  difficulty ;  and  that  he  consider 
ed  himself  to  be  called  upon  to  affirm  only  what  was 
to  his  personal  knowledge.  Several  of  the  slaves  of 
Cassinius  confirmed  this  declaration,  which  gave  rise 
to  violent  debates,  often  interrupted  by  the  clamors 
of  the  assembled  multitude. 

After  the  hearing  of  several  other  witnesses  who 
had  been  picked  out  from  among  the  vilest  creatures 
attached  to  the  service  of  Clodius,  with  a  view  to 
corroborate  the  evidence  of  the  alibi,  which  was  the 
capital  point  of  the  defense,  there  came  the  intro 
duction  of  such  witnesses  as  were  needed  to  establish 
the  good  and  virtuous  antecedents  of  Clodius  and 
his  immaculate  morality.  It  certainly  required  a 
wonderful  supply  of  brass  for  any  one  to  publicly 
endorse  Clodius  as  a  man  having  even  the  semblance 
of  virtue — so  well  known  was  he  to  the  whole  com 
munity  !  Nevertheless,  that  class  of  witnesses  proved 
to  be  numerous,  and  composed  even  of  many  senators 
on  whose  devotion  Clodius  had  good  reasons  to  rely. 
Pompey  himself  had  been  cited  to  render  the  same 
service  to  a  man  notoriously  coated  all  over  with 


470 


APPENDIX. 


vices  and  stained  with  every  crime.  But  Pompey,  at 
least,  did  not  come.  Clodius  brought  also  to  testify 
in  his  favor  many  notable  citizens  of  neighboring 
cities,  particularly  of  Lanuvium,  which  was  his  birth 
place  and  in  which  he  exercised  great  influence. 

The  5th  of  May  having  not  sufficed  to  hear  all 
those  whitewashing  witnesses,  the  case  was  continued 
to  the  6th,  and  then  the  list  being  exhausted,  the 
tribunal  adjourned  to  the  8th,  allowing  the  /th  for 
the  interval,  or  compercndinatio,  which  was  required  by 
the  law  to  elapse  before  the  pleadings  could  be  re 
sumed. 

The  coming  of  the  8th  of  May  was  not  looked  to 
without  great  apprehensions  in  Rome.  An  incident 
had  taken  place  on  the  last  sitting  of  the  court  which 
was  a  justifiable  cause  for  those  apprehensions. 
Moved  by  the  pathetic  amplifications  of  the  notables 
of  Lanuvium  on  the  generous  devotion  of  Clodius  to 
the  interests  of  the  poor  of  the  plebeian  class,  a  por 
tion  of  the  people  had  manifested  much  turbulence, 
and  the  vociferations  had  been  of  an  alarming  nature. 
For  one  moment  the  populace  had  broken  into  the 
precincts  of  the  tribunal,  and  threats  had  been  pre 
ferred  both  against  the  judges  and  against  Cicero, 
who,  notwithstanding  the  moderation  of  his  testi 
mony,  was  supposed  to  be  the  instigator  of  the  pros 
ecution.  Afraid  of  these  demonstrations,  which  might 
lead  to  acts  of  greater  violence,  some  of  the  judges 
had  resolved  not  to  take  their  seats,  unless  a  guard 
were  granted  for  their  protection.  All  the  members 
of  the  tribunal  deliberated  on  the  subject,  and  unani 
mously  voted,  less  one  vote,  for  the  furnishing  of  a 
guard.  The  Senate,  to  which  was  referred  the  action 
of  the  judges,  approved  of  it,  and  issued  orders  in  ac- 


APPENDIX. 


471 


cordance  with  their  desire.  This  measure  gave  great 
satisfaction  to  all  good  citizens,  and  removed,  to  some 
extent,  their  apprehensions.  A  large  crowd  went  to 
the  house  of  Cicero  to  show  their  sense  of  his  patriot 
ism  and  eminent  services.  There  was  much  rejoicing 
among  the  sound  part  of  the  population  when  the 
tribunal,  so  much  distrusted  at  first,  now  gave  signs 
of  its  being  determined  to  do  courageously  its  duty. 
Moreover,  there  were  such  precision  and  concordance 
in  the  proofs  adduced,  they  were  so  clear  and  so 
overwhelming,  the  falsity  of  the  alibi  was  so  conclu 
sively  demonstrated,  that  nobody  doubted  that  a  ver 
dict  of  guilty  would  be  rendered.  The  accused  him 
self  seemed  resigned  to  his  fate.  Hortensius,  rejoic 
ing  at  having  so  accurately  judged  of  the  situation 
when  he  suggested  to  the  tribune  Fufius  the  amend 
ment  which  reconciled  the  people  to  the  Senate's  de 
cree,  offered  to  bet  that  Clodius  would  not  present 
himself  on  the  next  morning,  but  would  prefer  a  vol 
untary  exile  to  exposing  himself  to  the  blow  which 
was  sure  to  fall  upon  him. 

On  the  said  8th  of  May,  an  immense  multitude 
came  from  the  neighboring  cities  to  see  the  end  of 
that  memorable  trial.  At  dawn,  a  troop  of  armed 
men  occupied  the  porticoes  of  the  old  hall  of  the 
Forum.  To  the  astonishment  of  his  adversaries,  Clo 
dius  made  his  appearance.  His  face  was  calm,  and 
his  whole  countenance  was  full  of  assurance. 

When  the  court  opened,  it  was  addressed  by  Pub- 
lius  Lentulus,  one  of  the  accusers.  After  having  de 
scribed  in  his  exordium  the  situation  of  the  Republic, 
and  dwelt  on  the  necessity  of  putting  an  end  to  the 
civil  discords  which  threatened  it  with  absolute  ruin, 
the  orator  reviewed  the  antecedents  of  Clodius.  "  The 


4/2 


APPENDIX. 


accused,"  he  said,  "  after  the  death  of  his  father,  par 
ticipated  with  a  sort  of  furious  eagerness  in  all  the 
debaucheries  of  those  suddenly  enriched  buffoons 
who  disgrace  Rome,  and  sank  so  low  into  the  mire  of 
infamy  as  to  be  guilty  of  incest  with  his  own  sisters. 
When  he  reached  the  age  of  manhood,  he  embraced 
the  career  of  arms,  and  made  himself  conspicuous,  not 
by  his  talents  and  courage,  but  by  the  avidity  with 
which  he  surrendered  himself  to  the  shameful  pas 
sions  of  the  Cilicians  and  other  barbarians.  Having 
become  infected  by  the  new-fangled  notions  of  the 
day,  he  communicated  the  infection  to  the  army, 
which  was  commanded  by  Lucullus,  his  brother-in- 
law,  and  to  which  he  preached  insubordination  and 
insurrection.  Having  failed  in  that  criminal  enter 
prise,  he  is  put  on  a  vessel  and  sent  back  to  Rome. 
Attacked  by  pirates  near  Nisibis,  he  is  too  timid  to 
offer  any  resistance  and  is  made  prisoner.  Set  free 
on  account  of  the  fear  they  had  of  Pompey,  his  pa 
tron,  he  goes  to  Antioch,  and  then  sneaks  back  to 
Rome.  After  his  return,  how  does  he  signalize  him 
self?  By  charging  Catiline  with  peculation  and  by 
taking  hush-money  for  ignominiously  dropping  the 
accusation  !  Having  departed  for  Gaul  with  Murena, 
he  manufactures  in  that  province  all  sorts  of  false 
statements,  puts  to  death  the  minors  and  heirs  that 
are  in  his  way,  and  associates  himself  with  malefac 
tors  to  perpetrate  a  number  of  crimes  of  astonishing 
variety.  Back  to  Rome  again  after  all  those  exploits, 
his  first  step  is,  to  fraudulently  appropriate  to  himself 
certain  sums  of  money  belonging  to  the  people,  by 
cutting  the  throats,  in  his  own  house,  of  the  men  who 
had  been  charged  with  the  distribution  of  those  funds 
among  the  tribes."  Lentulus  then  went  into  a  close 


APPENDIX. 


473 


examination  of  the  pending  case,  and  discussed  in  de 
tail  the  proofs  relative  to  the  fact  of  sacrilege  on  which 
the  trial  was  based.  With  regard  to  the  alibi,  it  was 
treated  by  his  brother  Lucius.  The  pontiff  Fannius 
took  charge  of  the  general  recapitulation  and  of  the 
peroration. 

The  advocates  of  Clodius  also  divided  among  them 
selves  the  defense  in  three  parts.  Curio  spoke  first ; 
the  largest  portion  of  his  speech  was  consecrated  to 
the  justification  of  his  client  against  the  imputations 
foreign  to  the  case,  by  which  Clodius  had  been,  he 
said,  so  malignantly  assailed.  "  I  beg  the  judges," 
he  added,  "  to  weigh  equitably  in  the  scales  of  The 
mis,  on  one  side  the  calumnies  of  which  my  client  is 
the  object  from  the  nobles,  and  on  the  other,  the  con 
stant  devotion  of  that  client  to  the  popular  interests. 
He  shows  it  by  aspiring  only  to  become  a  tribune  of 
the  people.  He  has,  O  Romans,  no  other  ambition  ! 
To  obtain  that  single  honor  he  has  relinquished  all  his 
patrician  privileges.  He  has  been  adopted  into  a  ple 
beian  family — he  who  reckons  among  his  ancestors 
thirty-two  consuls,  five  dictators,  seven  censors,  and 
seven  triumphers  !  His  intentions  and  predilections 
are  known  to  all.  Hence  the  hatred  of  the  patricians, 
and,  in  particular,  of  Cicero  —  that  new  man,  for 
merly  so  proud  of  his  plebeian  origin  when  struggling 
against  the  freedmen  of  Sylla,  and  to-day  so  infatu 
ated  with  his  upstart  nobility  that  he  systematically 
opposes  all  reforms  !  The  sacrilege  of  which  Clodius  is 
here  accused  is  nothing  but  a  pretext,  and  it  is  evident 
that  what  in  reality  stands  on  trial  now,  is,  on  one 
side,  the  preservation  of  the  worm-eaten  privileges  of 
the  Roman  aristocracy,  and  on  the  other,  the  devel 
opment  of  the  progressive  theories  which  are  spread- 


474  APPENDIX. 

ing  with  such  force,  and  which  will  be  carried  into 
practical  effect  by  the  new  generation.  Do  you  know 
who  are  the  parties  to  this  trial  ?  It  is  the  usurped 
wealth  of  the  publicans  against  the  excessive  and 
ever-increasing  poverty  of  the  oppressed  class.  This 
quarrel  does  not  date  from  the  4th  of  December,  692  ; 
it  is  as  old  as  the  Republic  itself,  and  the  profaner  of 
the  mysteries  of  the  Good  Goddess  is — shall  I  tell  you 
his  true  name?  It  was,  in  turn  and  successively,  at 
different  epochs,  Spurius  Cassius,  Licinius  Stolo,  Ti 
berius  and  Caius  Gracchus,  and  Servilius  Rullus,  who 
all  proposed  laws,  the  object  of  which  was  to  distrib 
ute  among  our  poor  citizens  the  lands  belonging,  or 
having  belonged  to  the  State,  that  were  wrongfully 
alienated."  These  last  words  of  Curio  were  welcomed 
with  immense  acclamations,  and  his  friends  thronged 
around  him  to  pour  out  their  compliments. 

The  remainder  of  the  defense  was  presented  by  the 
other  advocates,  who  attempted  to  destroy  the  proofs 
of  the  identity  of  Clodius  with  the  man  seen  in  the 
house  of  Caesar.  One  of  them  demonstrated  the  inno 
cence  of  the  accused  by  a  syllogism,  which  he  main 
tained  that  nobody  could  strive  to  refute  without  im 
piety.  "  We  all  know,"  he  said,  "  that  the  Good 
Goddess  strikes  with  immediate  blindness  the  viola 
tor  of  her  sacred  mysteries.  But  Clodius  has  the  en 
tire  use  of  his  eyes.  Hence  Clodius  can  not  have 
violated  the  sacred  mysteries."  "  Who  can  know," 
exclaimed  Cicero,  "  what  the  Good  Goddess  would  do 
on  such  an  occasion,  since  no  profanation  of  the  kind 
ever  occurred  before  the  one  perpetrated  by  Clodius  ?  " 

The  praetor  having  declared  the  case  closed,  the 
bailiffs  delivered  to  each  judge  a  tablet  coated  with 
wax,  and  a  bodkin.  The  judges  wrote  their  votes  im- 


APPENDIX. 

mediately  and  deposited  them  into  three  urns,  cor 
responding  with  the  three  Orders  of  which  the  tribu 
nal  was  composed.  The  prastor  took  out  successively 
the  fifty-six  tablets,  and  read  aloud  the  letter  in 
scribed  on  each  one  of  them.  The  letter  C,  meaning 
condemno — I  condemn — was  on  twenty-five  tablets, 
and  the  letter  A — absolve — I  acquit — on  thirty-one. 
This  result  being  known,  the  praetor  declared :  that 
Clodius  seemed  not  to  have  committed  the  crime  of 
which  he  was  accused — (non  fecisse  videtur),  and  con 
sequently  pronounced  his  acquittal.  The  Forum  rang 
with  thundering  applause,  and  Clodius  was  escorted 
triumphantly  to  his  house  by  his  partisans. 

Cicero  wrote  to  Atticus :  "  You  know  that  bald- 
head — that  Crassus,  who  lauded  me  so  profusely  in 
the  Senate  ?  Well !  In  two  days  and  through  the  me 
dium  of  one  single  slave,  he  has  brought  thio  whole 
affair  to  its  shameful  conclusion !  He  invited  the 
judges  to  his  house,  he  promised,  he  furnished  pledges 
and  guarantees — he  gave.  Moreover  (O  Good  Gods, 
what  corruption !),  he  threw  into  the  bargain,  as  an 
additional  temptation,  the  prostitution  of  noble  ma 
trons  and  adolescents."  In  later  times  the  scandal  of 
this  immortal  trial  was  branded  by  Seneca  with  sin 
gular  energy :  "  The  acquittal,"  he  said,  "  was  more 
criminal  than  the  crime.  The  adulterer  made  a  dis 
tribution  of  adulteries  among  the  judges,  and  thought 
himself  safe  only  when  he  had  rendered  them  similar 
to  himself." 

The  deeds  of  corruption  had  been  so  patent  and 
the  demoralization  of  the  epoch  had  reached  such  a 
degree  of  brazen  impudence,  that  the  agents  of  that 
corruption  boasted  openly 'of  what  they  had  done. 
The  names  of  the  prevaricating  judges  were  men- 


476  APPENDIX. 

tioned  publicly,  and  without  the  slightest  reserve,  as 
well  as  the  bribe  which  each  one  had  received.  Catu- 
lus  said  to  one  of  them :  "  Why  did  you  ask  for 
guards?  Were  you  afraid  of  being  robbed  of  the 
money  which  bribed  you  ?  " 

On  the  1 5th  of  May  there  was  an  assembly  of  the 
Senate.  Cicero,  who,  from  the  beginning  of  the  trial, 
had  determined  to  act  with  the  greatest  reserve,  could 
not  resist  the  excitement  of  the  occasion  and  perhaps 
the  perfidious  goadings  of  th«  secret  enemies  who 
surrounded  him.  Roused  into  making  a  speech,  he 
allowed  himself  to  be  betrayed  into  the  most  bitter 
vituperations  against  the  judges  who  had  sold  them 
selves,  and  did  not  spare  even  Consul  Piso,  whom  he 
treated  with  a  harshness  that  could  hardly  be  sur 
passed.  "  Conscript  fathers,"  he  said,  "you  must  not 
shrink  from  the  performance  of  duty,  because  you 
have  met  with  one  defeat,  and  you  must  not  permit 
yourselves  to  be  discouraged.  That  defeat,  it  is  true, 
is  of  such  a  nature  that  it  must  not  be  disregarded, 
but  at  the  same  time  its  gravity  must  not  be  exagger 
ated.  It  would  be  insensate  to  close  our  eyes  to  the 
danger,  but  there  would  be  cowardice  in  attaching 
more  importance  to  it  than  it  deserves.  Lentulus 
and  Catiline  were  acquitted  twice.  It  is  but  another 
bandit  whom  the  judges  have  set  free  to  plot  against 
the  Republic.  You  must  not,  O  Clodius,  deceive 
yourself  with  any  flattering  illusion.  The  judges 
have  given  you  Rome  for  a  prison.  In  not  condemning 
you,  they  wished  to  deprive  you  of  the  liberty  of 
exile.  Take  courage  then,  O  conscript  fathers  !  Do 
not  forfeit  any  portion  of  your  dignity.  Honest  men 
have  still  faith  in  the  destinies  of  the  Republic.  Their 
hearts  have  been  filled  with  grief,  but  their  fortitude 


APPENDIX. 


477 


remains  intact.  The  evil  is  not  new ;  but  to-day  it 
bears  its  fruits.  A  malefactor,  loaded  with  crimes, 
has  found  judges  as  infamous  as  himself." 

Clodius  was  present,  and  such  language  was  hard  to 
bear.  He  was  called  to  his  feet  by  Cicero's  violent 
apostrophe.  "  How  long,"  he  exclaimed,  "shall  we 
suffer  that  this  King  shall  thus  dare  to  speak  to  us 
like  a  master  ?  "  "  Do  you  call  me  King,"  (rex]  said 
Cicero,  "because  you  have  a  grudge  against  the 
memory  of  your  brother-in-law,  Marcus  Rex,  for  hav 
ing  forgotten  you  in  his  testament  ?  "  "  You  have 
bought  a  house,"  replied  Clodius,  "  with  money  re 
ceived  from  your  client,  Publius  Sylla,  in  violation  of 
the  law  Cencia,  which  forbids  advocates  from  accept 
ing  any  remuneration  for  their  services."  "  Bought !  " 
exclaimed  Cicero.  "  Are  you  thinking  of  your 
judges?  "  "  My  judges !  They  did  not  believe  your 
testimony,  although  given  on  oath."  "  Twenty-five 
believed  it,"  retorted  Cicero,  "  but  thirty-one  did  not 
put  any  faith  in  you,  since  they  compelled  you  to  pay 
them  in  advance."  This  last  sarcasm  overwhelmed 
Clodius,  who  could  not  conceal  his  confusion,  and  who 
resumed  his  seat  amidst  shouts  of  derision. 

The  Senate,  alarmed  at  the  consequences  which 
might  result  from  the  impunity  of  the  crime  commit 
ted  by  Clodius,  ordered  an  inquest  against  the  judges 
who  had  been  corrupted.  This  was,  however,  des 
tined  to  be  a  brutum  fulmen,  in  the  condition  to  which 
the  Republic  had  been  reduced.  It  would  have  been 
wise  not  to  propose  a  vain  measure  which  could  not 
be  executed,  and  Cicero  said  in  a  letter  to  Atticus 
that  he  would  have  opposed  it,  had  he  been  present. 
The  Order  of  the  Knights,  who,  it  seems,  had  many 
reasons  to  fear  the  investigation,  considered  it  a  di- 


478  APPENDIX. 

rect  attack  and  separated  from  the  Senate,  from  which 
they  resolved  to  withdraw  their  support  in  any  future 
conflict  with  the  people.  The  inquest  ordered  by 
the  Senate  was,  of  course,  a  stillborn  infant.  There 
was  no  attempt  to  give  life  to  it ;  there  was  substi 
tuted  for  it  a  general  law  against  judicial  corruption, 
but  the  people  refused  to  ratify  it.  A  striking  illus 
tration  of  the  moral  condition  of  Rome  at  that 
epoch  ! 

Shortly  after,  Clodius,  in  violation  of  all  law  and 
precedent,  in  which  he  was  secretly  assisted  by  Pom- 
pey  and  Caesar,  became,  as  he  had  long  intended,  a 
tribune  of  the  people  on  his  renouncing  his  patrician 
rank  and  privileges.  Armed  with  the  new  power  to 
which  he  had  aspired,  he  burned  the  house  of  Cicero 
on  Mount  Palatine,  another  at  Tusculum,  and  a  third 
at  Formia,  and  Cicero  voluntarily  exiled  himself  to 
escape  from  a  worse  fate.  Clodius  enjoyed  his  re 
venge,  until  the  gladiators  of  Milo  put  an  end  to  his 
scandalous  career. 

As  soon  as  public  and  private  virtue  ceased  to 
exist  in  Rome,  the  Republic  virtually  perished. 
It  continued  to  subsist  in  name  and  in  semblance 
— not  in  its  former  reality  and  vigorous  vitality. 
This  was  demonstrated  in  the  trial  of  Clodius  and 
in  the  scenes  which  preceded  and  followed  that 
event.  The  day  was  rapidly  coming  when  Brutus 
would  be  compelled  to  exclaim  :  "  O  virtue,  thou  art 
but  a  name ! "  On  that  day,  when  it  came,  the  death 
warrant  of  the  Republic  was  signed  by  Fate — that 
stern  executor  of  eternal  and  inflexible  laws.  An 
imperial  despotism  became  a  necessity,  as  being  a 
lesser  evil  than  anarchy.  Everything  in  the  social 
body  was  for  sale  from  head  to  foot.  The  conquerors 


APPENDIX. 


479 


of  the  world  were  openly  bought  like  slaves  in  the 
market-place.  The  gold  of  Crassus  elected  Caesar 
consul,  and  Cato  himself,  to  defeat  that  dangerous 
candidate,  admitting  in  full  Senate  that  bribery  had 
become  an  indispensable  element  of  influence,  recom 
mended  its  use  "  for  good  purposes  in  opposition  to 
its  being  employed  for  evil  ones."  But  Caesar  was 
the  highest  bidder,  and  therefore  obtained  the  major 
ity  of  the  popular  vote  ;  the  Republic  was  dead — 
and  we  all  know  what  Cato  did  to  escape  what  he 
thought  to  be  the  infamy  of  living  under  a  master. 
The  people  shrank  into  being  insignificant  factors  in 
the  distribution  of  power;  they  were  succeeded  by 
the  Pretorian  guards  and  the  legions,  who  became 
the  electors  at  the  ballot-box  of  the  sword,  and  who 
recognized  but  one  authority  —  one  sovereign  on 
earth — one  God  above — and  that  was  gold  !  Alas  ! 
It  is  but  too  easy  for  one  who  studies  thoroughly  the 
annals  of  mankind,  to  be  a  true  prophet — the  same 
causes  invariably  producing  the  same  effects  ;  but  if 
there  is  anything  that  is  entitled  to  be  called  "The 
voice  in  the  wilderness,"  it  is  emphatically  the  voice 
of  History. 


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